World War Murdoch
by Demosthenes23
Summary: Flash forward to 1917-18, when the Canadian government enforced conscription during WWI. Who will be caught in the cross hairs?
1. Trouble On The Homefront

Murdoch awoke once again to the rumble of distant gunfire and explosions. In fact, he had awakened this way almost every time since coming to this Godforsaken place. Today he had been lucky; he had gotten more than three hours of sleep before the fighting had commenced anew. Oftentimes, he would go several days without any rest and subsisted mostly on coffee, which he had acquired a taste for many years ago after the birth of his daughter. They had named her Olivia after Julia's mother who had passed away due to complications during childbirth. Julia and Ruby's brother hadn't made it either. He had been an unexpected surprise when the girls were much older and so they felt the pain of both losses that much more profoundly than if they had been too young to understand.

Fortunately and against all odds, Julia's pregnancy and subsequent birth had gone much better. Though there had been many worries about the child surviving full term, it had, or very nearly had (it was a month early). It became apparent almost immediately that Julia would not be able to give birth naturally. But since they had been extremely prepared for this eventuality, they had opted for this process to take place at a hospital, under the ever watchful eye of Dr. Tash. He used his vast experience and skills to safely perform the C-section on a heavily drugged Julia (she was completely put out with ether). Though there was a bit of a scare when he couldn't get the bleeding to stop. The crimson liquid had formed a small pool by the bedside by the time the doctor managed to locate the source of the leak and clamp it off. Shortly there after, Julia's complexion returned to normal (it had turned ash like) and both men released their pent up breath.

The baby itself was less fortunate, at first. Because she was premature, her lungs were not yet fully developed and it was difficult for her to breath. Murdoch stared at the gasping child in dread and feared the worst would soon befall her. However, gradually her breathing normalized and before long she was crying loudly, just like any healthy baby would have after being so rudely awakened. Apparently her lungs worked just fine and Murdoch smiled widely. The nurse handed Murdoch the normal looking child (for if you will recall, there had also been concerns of malformation) and he gazed at her with the most triumphant and ecstatic expression known to man, that of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Not long after, Dr. Tash told Murdoch to take the baby outside while he sewed Julia up; the less distraction, the better. Murdoch was so enraptured by his loudly screaming child that he didn't hear this and the nurse led him out of the room. It was many minutes later before he realized that he had been moved but it didn't take him long to figure out why. Within ten minutes Dr. Tash had completed his work and came out to shake Murdoch's hand, and to congratulate him. He told him it would be at least a half hour yet before Julia would awake from her slumber but that when she did, he expected her to be right as rain. Murdoch thanked him profusely and proclaimed him a Godsend as well as many other lovely things and Tash became a little embarrassed by such a display, by such a man and bid him good day.

Without further ado, Murdoch went back into the room and sat by her side, cradling the bundled up child lovingly, just dying to share his jubilation with the only other female he loved so completely, so profoundly, so unconditionally in all of the world. While he waited for Julia to wake up, and at some point unknown to him, for time ceased to matter, his daughter opened her eyes for the first time and Murdoch was enchanted by the sheer magnificence of such a simple act, especially when she was revealed to have the exact same bluish green eyes as that of her mother. The child blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light, and when she focused on her father's face, ceased to howl.

"Hello my darling angel," he whispered and then kissed her forehead reverently. "Welcome to the world."

Olivia stared at him in apparent wonder, mirroring that of her father exactly. The next instant she opened her mouth wide and proceeded to cry again, if possible, even louder.

"There, there," said Murdoch, rocking her back and forth. "Everything is all right. No one's going to harm you. I promise I will always be there to protect you, no matter what."

He had broken that promise when he came here; had been forced to come here in order to protect his other child's life.

Ever since they had passed the Military Service Act on August 29th, 1917, Murdoch and Julia had feared that their son would be drafted. It had been a constant evil hanging over their heads, like a storm cloud about to release its tempestuous vigour, eagerly awaiting the first chance to ruin their sunny days. It was as if there was some sort of bizarre karma at play, some mysterious cosmic balance that must forever exist or else perish. So it was that at the happiest point in recent memory, the tables were turned and disaster had struck.

But the thing that really got his goat was that this could all have been avoided! About two weeks after the Act had come into being, Murdoch had finished preparations for his plan that would allow them to evade conscription altogether. They would move to the States until the war _finally_ ended, whenever that would be. There they would be safe from both the Canadian and American military's influence (the latter because they were not American citizens). He had heard of several others doing this successfully and Murdoch had decided it was high time that his family do the same, lest his son be drafted. If Ben left for the States after this point, he would be forever labelled a deserter and ridiculed for the rest of his days. Better to leave before then when it was technically not considered a refusal to perform ones duty to his country. Unfortunately, things didn't go according to plan.

"Everyone, please stop," said Ben loudly as his family began getting their things together and placing them at the front door. They looked at him quizzically but did as they were asked. "I'm not going to the U.S."

"Of course you are!" exclaimed Julia, dropping the suitcase she was holding, the clothes spilling onto the ground. "Otherwise you will be killed!"

"You don't know that," said Ben quietly, looking away, unable to hold her stricken gaze, "you can't possibly know that."

Murdoch went over to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Have you not been paying attention these last few years? _Everyone_ is dying! Why do you think they needed to enforce this conscription in the first place?"

Ben extricated himself from his fathers grasp with ease, the strength of youth reigning supreme over his grey haired fathers, who was now fifty-six years of age.

Ignoring his words he said, "While I don't agree with fighting our fellow man, if my country has need of me, I will assist them in whatever way I can."

They stared at him disbelieving and Olivia started to cry and ran to him, her dark brown braid flapping in the wind, and wrapped her arms around him. He looked uncomfortable with this contact but made no attempt to remove his teenage sister.

"You can't go!" she cried, her voice melodic even in her distress. "I won't let you!"

"Dearest Olivia," he said gingerly, touching her face,"I'm afraid you don't have a say in the matter." She let go of him then and slumped to the ground, Julia coming over to rub her back. He looked at each of them in turn and rested his gaze on his father. "Frankly, I don't understand why you should be so worried about me. If I were to be drafted, they won't put me on the front line, I'm too valuable for that."

Murdoch got angry then at his sons arrogant attitude. "Do you think that just because you know some medicine that you will be safe from that? Even if they don't put you at the forefront of this atrocious war, there is still the chance that the medic tent will be bombed! The Germans will stoop to whatever level is necessary to win this war! Of that I have no doubt! Even you can't deny their tactics are absolutely repulsive! Gasing everyone in sight! Making them die in crippling agony! Because it's easier than shooting us! Because it's less expensive and more effective!" Ben stared at him somewhat shocked. It had been a long time since he had gotten so riled up about something. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

Ben became impassive as he said, "If it's as you say, father, then it's all the more reason for me to go there." Murdoch growled in frustration and Ben continued, "I can ease their suffering. I can put an end to pain. I can help those poor souls find salvation and lead them back home, back to our Father."

"You are not a priest," said Murdoch gruffly. "You have no authority to read them their last rites."

"That is true but I doubt very much that the men will care if it comes to that."

"You speak as if you have already made up your mind to go. As if you-" Murdoch's eyes widened and Ben stared at him unblinking. "You've already applied, haven't you?"

"What if I have?" said Ben. "I'm an adult now, I can make my own decisions."

There was weeping coming from the women, who were still on the ground and Murdoch tried to latch onto their utter despair.

"Look what you've done to your mother and sister! Look what you've reduced them to!" Ben refused his request and Murdoch continued in a desperate manner. "There's still time son! We can still leave here before it's too late!"

"As I said before, I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm not running away like some pathetic coward. I intend to perform my duty and that's that."

Without further ceremony he marched over to the doorway, grabbed the bag full of his possessions that his sister had carefully assembled while he had been studying at med school that afternoon and left the distraught family to their own devices. Murdoch feared he would never see him again.

* * *

Early the next morning, Brackenreid paid Murdoch a visit. He hobbled through the room, leaning heavily on his cane until he sat down, sighing happily. Brackenreid had badly injured his right knee six years ago after he fell chasing after a suspect and bashed it into the concrete sidewalk. Sadly, it had never fully healed and now he was cursed with this perpetual limp that continuously vexed him. No doubt this constant reminder of his failing youth was not a pleasant one, more so than the pain it sometimes caused him.

Skipping all pleasantries he said seriously, voice just as gruff as ever, "I've heard from some of my old army buddies that your son has volunteered for the fight. Did you know about this?"

"Yes," said Murdoch, "I found out yesterday."

Brackenreid nodded, absentmindedly twirling the non-existent moustache. "Do you also know what he will be doing when he goes over there?"

Murdoch gave him a puzzled look and said, "Why, he will be tending to those in need." The Chief Constable's face became apprehensive, which greatly alarmed Murdoch. "Won't he?"

"I'm afraid not, me old mucker," he said grimly. "Those bastards aren't interested in more doctors, especially ones who are still learning. They only want fighters. And they'll take them wherever they can get them. And since your son has some experience flying an airplane, they want him for that."

Murdoch's eyes widened and he clutched the sides of his chair, causing great indentations in the fabric. Pilots had the second worst survival rate out of all possible positions! The only worse placement was in the front line where no one stood a chance against those terrible machine guns and gas! And if it was as Brackenreid was saying, it was as if his sons death sentence had been signed, by his own hand no less!

This was all Pendrick's fault! It was because of him that Ben had had such great access to planes in recent years! If only he had never met the man, things would be different! Things would be better! Of course this was all very ungrateful of him to think about in relation to his old friend, especially when it had been done out of kindness (and Murdoch suspected loneliness, for you see, Pendrick had never remarried and had no children to call his own; his inventions had become his family) but Murdoch couldn't help it, he couldn't think clearly at the moment.

"You have to stop this!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"What do you want me to do, Murdoch? Ben willingly signed up, no one forced him into this. And I have no authority with the military any longer. I haven't had any for decades."

"Surely you must know someone who can do _something_?!"

Brackenreid thought hard about that for awhile and sighed. "I suppose I could try to persuade Ben's enrolling officer to reassign him before his papers are fully processed."

"Yes!" said Murdoch, shaking a finger at him,"Do that! That sounds good!" He grabbed his hat, "I'll come with!"

Brackenreid gave him an uncomfortable look. "Murdoch, it might be best if I do this alone. You aren't exactly thinking straight at the moment and might just get in the way." Murdoch opened his mouth to say something but his friend cut him off, "You wouldn't want to jeopardize this, now would you?"

"No, I suppose not," he said, putting his hat slowly back on the rack. With difficulty Brackenreid stood up and made his way to the door. Murdoch held out his hand, "Good luck, sir. I pray you succeed."

* * *

Murdoch waited anxiously for him to return and began pacing his living room floor, exactly along the usual strip of carpet that was now well worn because of this repeated action. Julia and Olivia returned about twenty minutes later from their morning walk to find him this way, immediately knowing that something was amiss.

"What is it dad?" asked Olivia, "What's happened?"

He glanced at her but didn't respond and continued pacing.

"_William_."

When his wife spoke in that tone of voice, he always stopped whatever he was doing and went to her. As he explained the situation to them, their emotions ranged from horror and despair to one of hope. Afterwards all three of them took a place on the sofa, hand in hand, their daughter in the middle and awaited whatever fate was to befall Ben in trembling silence.

* * *

An hour later there was a loud knock at the door. They shared a look with one another and then Murdoch hurried over to answer it. It was not Brackenreid but rather Ben and another man. He had never seen him before in his life but judging by his attire, knew he was a Captain from the military.

"Father," said Ben angrily, pushing past him and ignoring the stares of his family, "did you try to have me removed from the army?"

"No," said Murdoch, "not exactly. I tried to have you reassigned."

Ben looked at him in a puzzled manner. "Reassigned? Whatever for?"

Murdoch said very clearly, "They were going to place you in the air force, son."

His sons eyes got wide and he stared at the other man. "Is this true Captain Westfield?"

"Yes."

"Bu-but, you said that if I joined I would work as a doctor! That I would help people!"

"Things change," said the impassive man.

"You lied to me!" shouted Ben, pointing a finger at him. "You coerced me! This is a criminal offence!"

"No one forced you to sign, son. You did that all on your own. And now that you have, there's no going back. However," he said, a glint in his eye as he looked at Murdoch, "I could be persuaded to reassign your son if you agreed to help us."

"Me?" said Murdoch, sharing a confused look with his wife, who had come over to hear the conversation better. "What could you want from me?"

"Oh don't be so modest, detective. We've read all about your exploits in the Gazette. We know that you are quite the inventor. We could use some of that brilliance to defeat the Germans."

It was then that the truth dawned on him.

"That was your plan all along, wasn't it? You never wanted Ben, you wanted me!"

Captain Westfield said, "I don't deny it."

Ben fell to the ground muttering, "What have I done? What have I done?" and Olivia ran over to him and this time he embraced her like he normally would.

"You were planning to leave the country, we had to put a stop to that before you did so. Given your strong stance against the war, we knew that if we drafted you or your son, you would simply disregard orders and flee anyways." Murdoch stared at him in disbelief. How could his fellow country man stoop to such a level? "I'll tell you what, detective, I'll sweeten the pot a bit." He removed several pieces of paper, a pen and a lighter from his pocket. "You can have your wish, and then some. I'll burn Ben's papers right now if you sign this enlistment form." He slapped it on a nearby table and held out the pen to him.

And that was how he ended up in this dreary bunker, somewhere in England (he had lost track of where specifically because they constantly moved around), trying to improve the anti-aircraft technology that would finally put a stop to the constant bombings by the zeppelins and Gothas. But the worst thing about the whole affair was that his coming here hadn't even prevented anything! Ben had felt so guilty about his father being forced to enter the war that he had reapplied later. The good news was that this time he had gotten the position that he was suited for. But even though he was far from the front line, it was as his father had said, there was still constant danger all around and there was no telling if he'd make it out alive, if either of them would.


	2. Olivia

Olivia approached the familiar air base in her mother's black Briscoe. She had taken it without asking her, indeed, she had left the house without telling her where she was headed. It wasn't so much that she was up to no good, but rather, she didn't feel it necessary to explain every action she ever performed. If that came across as being disrespectful, she was sorry, that hadn't been her intent.

The place was less busy than usual but she didn't wonder at it. She knew exactly where all the men had gone, had been forced to go. Some of the remaining labouring men whistled at her as she drove by and she gave them a disgusted look. However once she had passed them, she smiled to herself, secretly pleased by such rare attention. Though Olivia had been born healthy enough, with only minor defects here and there, (as every normal human being is wont to have), there was one affliction that had unceasingly plagued her throughout her sixteen years of life, that of being quite petite. All told she was no more than four feet nine inches and given her meagre frame (and bosom), served to give her the appearance of a child. And people being as unobservant as they were, frequently assumed that she was one, regardless of the usually adult manner in which she conducted herself. This was an issue that continually vexed her but which she was powerless to stop. She prayed every day that a massive growth spurt was just around the corner, (either that or people miraculously became smarter, but she wasn't holding her breath on that score). However, there was one thing that she liked about herself quite a bit, that of her voice. She had been blessed with a very luscious, melodic type of voice and it was very pleasing to the ear.

Olivia continued all the way across the air field and into the middle hangar (there were only three) before coming to a stop and hopping out of the vehicle, in a very unlady like manner. This display was even more scandalous when one considered what she was wearing; trousers for heavens sake! And they weren't just any old trousers, these had come all the way from France where that sort of thing was becoming ever more popular. Mind you, even there the practice of wearing 'men's' clothing was almost strictly reserved for the purposes of bicycling.

She had wanted the pants in order to blend in better here, in the hopes that maybe she would be taken more seriously if she wore them. The idea had come to her when she had recalled an enchanting story of a group of women who had dressed as men in order to get more rewarding work than simply secretarial positions or telegraphers. Olivia had been astonished to learn that her own mother had gone undercover as one, moustache and all! Her mother told her that it had been one of the most liberating experiences of her life and she wasn't just referring to how comfortable the clothing was!

Unlike her mother, Olivia hadn't fully disguised herself because she had felt there was no need for such total deception (there is another reason that we will get to shortly). But judging by many of the strange looks she was getting, and whispered conversations commencing, it appeared that maybe she should have. Should she go home and change into a skirt? The next instant, she was angry at herself for feeling the need to change her appearance just to try and appease the archaic mindset of the supposedly modern man. Why should it matter what she wore? Why was it that a minute ago they had been attracted to her, but the moment she revealed herself to dare wear the same type of clothing as them, she should then be considered a freak, no better than the unfortunate individuals that inhabited the circus? Why should a piece of fabric make her any more or less desirable, or for that matter, _capable_ of a human being? She wanted very much to scream at them but knowing that would do nothing to fix the situation, indeed, would likely only serve to make matters worse, controlled herself with a great force of will and marched onward.

Olivia headed through the noisy minefield of sparks and metal, through an area tinged with the stink of sweat, and over to the man she secretly loved. He was instructing some new workers (young men all told) on how to properly attach the six cylinder diesel/electric engine to the turbocharger (both custom designed by her crush).

"No, no," he said loudly over all the noise, "you're still doing it wrong!" He must have seen her approaching from the corner of his eye for he turned to look at her then, raising an eyebrow at her attire but saying nothing about it. "Miss Murdoch, it's been awhile. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Mr. Pendrick," she said seriously, "I've thought a lot about this...and I've decided that you desperately want to hire me."

He smirked at her and said, "_You've_ decided, eh?"

"That's right," she said nodding, trying not to smile.

Without a single thought he shrugged his shoulders and said, "All right," making the other men gape at him like he'd lost his mind. Olivia smiled widely then and he gestured to the plane, the Pendrick Viper and said, "Could you please demonstrate to these men how to achieve this particular task?"

"With pleasure," she said, reaching for a large wrench and medium sized screwdriver and proceeding to adjust the screws and bolts to the exact right tightness for the design. If this process was overdone, the increase in pressure during flight was liable to cause a gasket to burst, proving fatal for the pilot. In a way it took a gentle touch, one might even say a woman's touch but if she ever made such a proclamation aloud, it would make her no better than the bewildered men surrounding her, watching her perform her magic. For by doing so would be akin to admitting that she was a weak creature, one that was too delicate a being to be doing such a task and therefore by that logic had no right to be there.

Within minutes she finished the task at hand and put the tools back from whence they came. The men continued to be astonished by such a display and she couldn't help but smirk a little, happy in her self satisfaction. Pendrick inspected her work and beamed at her, making her heart flutter. Though he had smiled at her many times throughout her apprenticeship with him, he had never looked at her quite like that before (or so she perceived).

"And that my new found mechanics, is exactly how one goes about performing this job correctly." They discreetly glanced at each other, embarrassed then at being shown up by someone they no doubt deemed inferior. He arched his back then and said, "Oh my! I think I need a bit of rest now. I believe Miss Murdoch can take over for me in the interim."

One of the men laughed and said, "Surely you can't be serious, sir? She's just a little girl! I mean look at her! She's wearing _trousers_ for crying out loud! She's clearly wrong in the head!"

Pendrick and Olivia glared at the young man and the smug smile was instantly wiped from his face (no doubt much more from the former than the latter). "Why shouldn't I be serious? Do you deny what happened in front of your own senses? Did you not just witness that this..._little_ _girl_ as you incorrectly insist on labelling her, was able to perform that which you yourself could not?" He paused briefly, letting that sink in, "And I fail to see the relevance of her clothing on her mind."

The man looked away, red faced in anger, muttering something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" asked Pendrick, cupping his right ear. "As you might imagine, my hearing isn't what it used to be and this noisy environment does little to help." Silence from the distraught and seething individual. "Nothing to say? Well, let's keep it that way." Glancing at the four young mechanics in turn, "I expect you to conduct yourselves like proper gentlemen." There were some grumbles. "We are at war, men, this is no time to be squabbling over gender roles. In case you hadn't noticed, we are a little short handed at the moment and are going to need whatever help we can get in order to finish this next shipment on time. You will follow whatever instructions Miss Murdoch gives you without complaint. Is that understood?" More grumbles. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir," they muttered.

Next he took Olivia aside and said, "When you're finished here, come and see me in my office. And Olivia, if you have any problems with them, any at all, I want you to inform Peter straight away."

She nodded that she understood and then watched him go briefly, greatly anticipating their alone time together, and then pulled herself back to the present. The three men who hadn't spoken looked at her uncomfortably, like they'd very much like to be anywhere else than there. The fourth man, the irate one, wasn't quite finished yet and immediately disregarded orders.

Darkly, "You don't belong here, _little girl. _This is no place for the likes of you. This is men's work. Why don't you do us all a big favour and go back to the kitchen, where your own kind belongs?"

His attitude was too much to be borne! Before she knew what she was doing, she had reached up and slapped him extremely hard, causing him to stagger and leaving an angry red indentation across his cheek. After his stupefaction wore off, he growled and tried to lunge at her but two of the men grabbed his arms and held him back.

As they began dragging him away, he screamed, "This isn't over, you harpy! I'll teach you to show some respect to your superiors! You have my word on that!"

Olivia was no shrinking violet, his threats didn't scare her and she wasn't about to go running to Peter of all people. He was a nice enough man but he wasn't exactly what you would call intimidating.

The remaining man grimaced and said, "Begging your pardon, miss, but Malcolm's always been a bit of a hot head. And he doesn't take kindly to change. I'm sorry you had to witness that."

"You don't need to apologize to me, Mr.-"

"It's George, miss, George Hampton."

She smiled at that and muttered, "Of course that's your name."

He looked at her quizzically, "Excuse me, miss?"

"It's nothing," she replied. She held out her hand and said, "I'm Olivia Murdoch."

He took it lightly as if he were afraid of hurting her. This served to annoy her greatly but she tried not to let it show.

"Are you by any chance related to William Murdoch?"

"As a matter of fact I am, he's my father. Why do you ask?"

"Oh no reason. It's just I've heard an awful lot about your father recently. He's a great man, volunteering to go off to war at his age and all."

Olivia scowled at that last bit and George looked a little frightened as if he feared she would strike him next.

"Something the matter, miss?"

Stiffly, "No, everything's just fine. Let's get to work."

In truth everything was not fine, that was precisely the reason that she had wanted to work here in the first place. Since both her father and brother had gone off to war, it was just her and her mother, something that she had never experienced before. While Olivia loved her dearly, greatly admired her, as she did her father and brother, she had become increasingly difficult to live with in recent weeks. No matter what Olivia tried, she could never seem to get her mother to stop worrying. Of course Olivia was worried as well but not to the extent that her mother was. Her mother had gotten so bad that she couldn't seem to focus on anything but that, had even had to take time off work! Rather than be dragged down with her, she had opted to be a more productive member of society and get a job. She could have chosen many other professions but this one had an obvious perk to it, one that she was willing to face never ending ridicule over in order to attain; that of getting to see James every day.

Her apprenticeship with him had started at any early age, when she was no more than seven years old and shown an aptitude for handling machines (in so far as taking things apart and then putting them back together). She learned all manner of things from him, and when combined with her own parents teachings, had developed into an extremely well educated individual. To her school was a pointless endeavour. Why waste her time with it when she could be doing things of actual value, with real world applications, with something that would actually make a difference? If she could help supply the Canadian and American air forces with planes with which their men could practice on before shipping out, didn't she have a moral obligation to do so? If she could in any way, bring her family back to her faster, wasn't that what mattered? What significance did geometry or Shakespeare have in comparison to that?

But back to the matter of her infatuation. It had come on so gradually that she hadn't even realized it until recently. About three months ago, James had been explaining the finer details of aerodynamics to her, when all of a sudden she found herself daydreaming about him! This particularly startled her because it had been quite a steamy affair! At that instant, it finally dawned on her that she thought of him as more than just a mentor. And now in present day, she had decided that she was in love with him. Rationally she knew that he probably didn't feel the same way, that he probably only thought of her as his loyal pupil, (or even worse, as his daughter), but there was no stopping the way she felt, no easy off switch to make this all go away.

Love was a fickle thing. How could such a beautiful thing be so inconvenient, so inappropriate? Why did she have to be in love with one of her father's oldest friends, with a man who was over forty years her senior, who had accomplished things beyond her wildest dreams, who was a lone wolf that wasn't interested in marriage, had sworn he never would be again? And even if he was, who was she in comparison to him? This man was even more brilliant than her own father and she still had a long way to go to be considered even _his_ equal. Why would James ever take a romantic interest in _her_, she who still resembled that of a child?

Granted that sort of thing wasn't unheard of, in fact, it was still somewhat common even in current society but it was mostly frowned upon. Nowadays people expected you to marry someone more your own age because that was more natural or desirable, apparently. As far as she was concerned, the boys her age were still infantile and the slightly older ones were no better than boys. Why should that be desirable? Malcolm was a prime example of what she meant. George had more sense but was far too meek for her tastes. No, only someone with a keen intellect and a love of invention, of exploration, of science would ever be able to tempt her.

And so it was that she had succeeded in securing her ruination. How would she cope in the hours, the days, the months to come, suffering the worst symptom known to man, that of unrequited love? Why oh why had she decided to work here?

Over the next few hours Olivia and her team of three (they had thrown Malcolm out) only managed to complete construction on the same airplane that they had started on (and that one had been mostly finished to begin with). She was sure that if she had been working on her own, she would have finished this same task in half the time. Constantly having to explain everything to the fledgling mechanics was a tedious and above all annoying exercise. She hoped she hadn't been that much of a burden to James when she had been learning. The good news about this whole affair: she knew that she would never take the position of school teacher, not unless she were starving and that was the only job she could get.

Once they had _finally_ finished, she was free to go see James, in his office, where it would be just the two of them. It was difficult to walk normally with such an enticement before her but she managed it with aplomb. She knocked on his door and he told her to come in. He was at his desk working away at a new design for what appeared to be a fuselage.

"It's pretty," she said, feeling stupid for such a comment in front of such a man.

"Do you think so?" he responded, frowning slightly. "I was rather going for streamlined." He smirked a little then, looked up and caught her still mortified expression and frowned again. "What's the matter, Olivia?"

"Oh nothing, Mr. Pendrick, nothing at all."

"Did those boys give you any trouble after I left?"

"A little." And then partially lying because she didn't want to show weakness in front of him, "but it was nothing I couldn't handle on my own." She couldn't be certain that she couldn't have tamed Malcolm since she had not been given the opportunity. Hence, half truth.

Suspiciously, "Are you quite sure about that? I'd be happy to dismiss them if needs be. They aren't the brightest bunch I've come in contact with. No doubt you became aware of this very quickly."

The lack of proper mechanics was a direct result of many men crossing the sea in order to be put to better, more immediate use but James knew that she knew that already and wasn't about to insult her intelligence, or unnecessarily bring up a painful topic.

"No, that won't be necessary, Mr. Pendrick. I've got everything under control."

He nodded and smiled. "All right, I believe you." There was a brief silence and he gestured for her to take a seat beside him. She wondered why she hadn't done so previously and then decided it was because she was so nervous being around him. Having never experienced this unpleasant sensation in his presence before, she had been slow to discern it. Was this what it would be like from now on?

"So tell me, Olivia, why is it that I haven't seen or heard from you in three weeks time?"

She gave him an apologetic look. "Mother and I took a trip out of town, to Winnipeg. I thought maybe the fresh air would do her some good, that a change of scenery might take her mind off of..."- She glanced away briefly and then returned his gaze.

His expression was one of great distress. The last time she could recall such an expression was when she was ten years old. She had gotten her hand stuck in a carburetor only moments before the engine was accidentally started by an imbecile employee. James had reacted immediately and yanked her hand out in time, scraping some of the skin off in the process, but protecting her from much worse harm. The man responsible for this would be disaster was promptly let go and James had refused to continue his teachings for months afterwards. It took her father explaining how out of sorts she had been before he reconsidered.

James took her hand in his and she thrilled at his touch, and because of that, she involuntarily began trembling.

He must have mistaken the reason (and really why would he think otherwise?) for he said, "Has there been any word since the last letters?" She shook her head and he squeezed her hand. "I'm sure they are all right. They are smart men, they know how to keep out of harms way."

"I pray that you are right, Mr. Pendrick."

Silence for several moments.

"And now," he said, releasing her hand, making her yearn for him all the more, "let us discuss a more cheerful topic."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know, but I'm sure we can come up with something." He smirked, "After all, we're supposedly quite bright. At least, that's the general consensus. And as we all know, society is always right about everything."

She returned his smile and simultaneously felt more happy and nauseated than she had in many months. Could she ever work up the courage to tell him her true feelings towards him? Would she ever dare do such a thing, knowing full well the likely response? Would she be foolish enough to risk everything on a silly girl's fantasy?

Olivia feared that soon it wouldn't matter whether she made a conscious decision or not, that no matter how hard she struggled against the tide of emotion, it would burst through the ever larger cracks in her armour, drowning out all rational thought with ease and ruining their relationship forever.


	3. The German

Ben couldn't remember the last time he had seen a smile, and as he looked out across the vast landscape of soiled bedsheets and moaning soldiers, all crammed together in a chaotic mess, so that nary a space could be seen, he couldn't blame them. It was disheartening to him that most of the time his efforts were in vain, the men already too far gone to be saved. He wasn't sure what he had expected before coming here but it wasn't this, this was just an exercise in futility, one that he wasn't keen to continue. But he didn't have a choice, he was stuck here until the war ended, either that or- he didn't want to think of the alternative, his mood was already too depressed for such things.

It wasn't all bad, there was the occasional glimmer of light, that spark of joy when a soldier was told that he would pull through, that he would live to see another sunrise. Such a thing was rare but it was all he had to hold on to, all he had left in this hell hole of a place. Ben had some peace of mind knowing that things could be worse, he could be one of the damned out on the front line. The poor souls before him were the end result of that placement. When he first started here, he had had to deal with some extremely gruesome cases, that of missing limbs and ripped open guts and many other unpleasant things. It had nearly overwhelmed him, he who was still learning the basics of medicine, who in the passions of youth had arrogantly assumed he was ready for anything, and in his arrogance had disregarded his father's most important teachings.

He would have given up before he had even started if it weren't for the brave women here. The few nurses that assisted him made all the difference in the beginning, still did in fact. In the five months since his arrival, they had been his anchor, keeping him in check and holding the line steady (not to mention teaching him many things). They were all such unshakeable, unbreakable women that if he didn't know any better, would have thought they were forged in the pits of hell themselves. That's not to say that they weren't kind and generous individuals, for they were some of the nicest people he had ever met in his life. Needless to say, it was a strange combination of manners but this was a strange place, so the unusual was expected.

There was one nurse in particular that he looked to above all others for advice and guidance. Her name was Valerie Durand. She was a French woman who was a couple of years younger than him but was wise beyond her years. No doubt being here for the past two years had served to speed up her mental development three fold. Besides her powers of perception, there was something else that greatly recommended her to him. She also had exceedingly beautiful hair, it was jet black and full bodied and luscious. Though her hair was often covered with the white headdress associated with her position, he had seen it in its entirety once or twice when she had forgotten to wear it or misplaced it. He had never forgotten those instances, even amongst the chaos of their occupation. During the cold nights (or whenever he got some shut eye) he dreamed of running his fingers through her hair, of feeling the soft embrace of her warm body pressed against his own. But these dreams were just that, they would never come to pass so long as the war continued to rage on, so long as it was impossible to marry.

And unlike his poor deluded sister, the attraction was not one sided. She felt a strong connection to him as well so that marriage was much more of a possibility. Ben and Valerie had even discussed just such a thing about a month ago in his tent quarters, away from all the death and destruction (though they could certainly still hear it in the distance). What follows is that conversation. (Note: this takes place in French but I have translated for you).

"What will you do after the war ends?" Valerie asked him from her place on his cot, only a mere foot apart. There were no chairs in the tiny enclosure of his.

"Why I plan to finish my education and become a doctor." Quizzically, "But you knew that already, so why are you asking again?"

"And this education you speak of, it will take place in Canada?"

"I don't see why not-" Now he understood where this was going. Sadly, "Valerie, I-"

"Do you want children someday, Ben?" She looked at him expectantly with her big blue eyes and he quickly formed a reply.

"Of course. It is the natural thing to do."

She frowned slightly. "So you feel it is simply your duty to procreate and nothing more?"

He raised his eyebrows at that. "I admit that I don't particularly like children. They are so noisy and messy and distracting. I'm afraid in the few dealings I have had with them, I haven't had much patience with them."

Valerie was thoughtful for a moment. Without a trace of embarrassment she said, "I believe you would think differently if they were your own...if they were ours."

Ben looked at her again, open mouthed. "Do you speak truly?"

"When have I not?"

His face lit up and he took her hands in his, "You wish to marry me then?!"

She smirked. "That would be the logical and appropriate conclusion, doctor."

"_Valerie._"

Smiling widely, "Yes, Benjamin Murdoch, I wish to marry you."

He exclaimed aloud, and she laughed in her deep throaty way as he hugged her tightly for the first time ever. In fact, she was the first woman he had ever hugged that was not one of his relations. Ben released his grip on her and then debated what to do next for several seconds. Should he kiss her? Apparently he took too long to decide so Valerie made up his mind for him. She pulled him close again and their lips touched gently at first, then more forcefully until he could barely think, all thought erased from his mind save for the all consuming kiss.

Eventually they came up for air and she whispered in his ear, "You still have much to learn, doctor. Luckily for you, you have an excellent teacher."

Rather than take offence at that, he laughed and eagerly commenced his lessons anew.

* * *

The glow of that jubilant experience had waned considerably in the weeks since as the reality of their situation came back in full force. It was hard to hold onto joy in the presence of so much human misery. But while that may be the case, Ben still tried his best to keep that last ember of passion ignited. He was afraid that if he ever let it completely go out, he would never get the fire started again and he would be doomed to freeze to death, alone, even while surrounded by so many people, even while his love was nearby. So it was that he took it upon himself to keep the passion alive and every opportunity he got, he made sure to make the best of it.

Unfortunately, this decision was a double edged sword. On the one hand, Ben had learned all he could from his teacher. On the other hand, because of this, he wanted very badly to take that next step, into uncharted territory. With no chaperons, such a thing would be very easy. But their sense of propriety and above all else, religious beliefs, continuously prevented them from such a thing, so that even though they were nearing desperation, they would not cross that line. Even in this Godforsaken place, some things had to remain sacred. Of that belief they would not budge from, no matter how much their flesh yearned for something greater than themselves.

While it was true that if they got their hands on some rings, they could be married within the hour by one of the British ships captains, Ben would not go down that road. The reason was simple. He was catholic and intended to be married where it was deemed proper for such a thing, with his family around, and not dying men. And so it was that he was dragged from one living hell and into another, day in, and day out until he couldn't take it any longer. Something had to change soon or he would sin far too deeply.

So it was that three days ago he had asked for a transfer and last night it had been accepted. He hadn't told Valerie because he thought it would be too hard to say goodbye, that he would lose his resolve. His bag was packed and he was ready to go but before he left, he laid an envelope on his pillow addressed to his fiancee. Then he sighed and headed into the early morning glow, when the sun was just beginning to rise. For once the fighting had yet to commence and all was calm and quiet. He soaked in the rare gift before sighing again and leaving the encampment. His escort was waiting for him in a beat up brown Daimler. The soldier already had the car running so that he could keep warm as the mid-March weather was still quite cold here in France.

"Hurry up, old boy!" called Private Reginald Cumberbatch through a slit in an open window. "We've got a ways to go and the last thing we want to do is run out of fuel! I'd wager that would put us in a right pickle!"

Up till then Ben had been dragging his feet, not really wanting to go. At the private's impatient plea, he picked up the pace and opened the passenger door. He plopped himself down and tossed his bag into the back seat, a second later vaguely wondering if he damaged any of his medical supplies but not caring enough to check.

Reginald picked up on his demeanour right away. "Everything all right, mate?"

"Just drive," grumbled Ben.

Reginald shrugged his shoulders and they rolled on out of there. Ben glanced in the side view mirror half hoping to see Valerie one last time before he was gone for good. Unfortunately, he would have no such luck, which only served to darken his mood even more.

After several hours of driving through backwoods, he came out of his depressed shell and asked, "Where are we headed?"

"Saint-Quentin, somewhere near the Hindenburg Line."

Ben frowned at that information. "Isn't that the place where the Germans have a massive defensive network?"

Reginald nodded. "Looks like you've been paying attention."

"I hadn't heard of any fighting there."

"Not yet, mate, but it's just about to start."

_Oh lovely. Not only did I have to leave my beloved, but I'm going to the next big battlefield!_

"You picked a hell of time to transfer!" Then he laughed and Ben glared at him until he took the hint and stopped. There was silence for a bit. "If you don't mind my asking, why did you?"

"I _do_ mind!" Ben snapped. "You have some nerve asking me_ that_! Other than your name, I don't even know you!"

"Bloody hell, man! You need to lighten up a bit! Otherwise, this place will eat you alive!"

Deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Reginald, it's just been a very trying time for me lately."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"It might be good for you."

Somewhat annoyed, "You don't quit, do you?"

The man smiled widely. "It's not in my nature, Ben."

"Oh all right. You win. What happened was-"

Reginald abruptly stopped the car, flinging him into the dashboard. After a few seconds he came to his senses.

"What the-" Then his eyes focused on the scene before them. They had turned a bend and in the distance a car was flipped upside down, and was smoking. The next instant the engine burst into flames.

"What are you waiting for, man?" exclaimed Ben. "Drive on over there! Someone needs our help!"

"Stay here," Reginald said sternly, no sign of merriment in his face, "this could be a trap."

He removed the pistol from his holster and got out of the vehicle, arm raised and ready for anything. He scanned the woods nearby and then cautiously started advancing towards the burning wreckage. When he got closer, he bent down to peer inside the sooty windows. He looked over at Ben and gestured to him to come over, simultaneously replacing his gun. Ben grabbed his bag and sprinted over there. Together they busted the door open and pulled out an unconscious man. They lifted him back towards their vehicle. About half way there, the man's car exploded and they nearly dropped him in their surprise. Bits of metal, like shrapnel on the battlefield, littered the road around them. Regardless, they put him on the ground and Ben got to work examining him. He had a nasty head wound that would need to be dressed but other than that, appeared to be in remarkably good condition.

Ben started fumbling around in his supplies when Reginald grabbed his arm and said darkly, "Leave him."

"Excuse me?" Ben asked incredulously.

"You heard me."

"How can we just leave this man to fend for himself? We're in the middle of nowhere!"

"You're not very observant, are you?"

Exasperated and frustrated, "I don't understand."

Reginald spit on the ground, near the mans head. "This bugger is a goddamn Fritz."

While it was true that his clothing wasn't the typical French style and he had blonde hair and blue eyes, it certainly didn't mean that he was a German. But then as if to leave no doubt in their minds, the man stirred and muttered, "Was ist passiert?"

Ben had picked up a little German in his time here. The man had said, "What happened?" Before Ben could attempt to respond, he passed out again, which was a good thing considering the conversation that proceeded it.

"This changes nothing. I'm still going to help him."

"No you're not."

"He's a civilian for crying out loud!"

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that he isn't!"

"I'm sorry," said Reginald taking out his pistol again, "but I can't take that risk."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ben outraged, "Shoot him?"

"Why not? He would have died anyways if we hadn't come along."

"Yes, but we did! And you can't just do this because you hate his country! We can just take him in as a prisoner!"

"I'm not going to have a bloody Jerry sitting behind me so that I have to look over my shoulder ever goddamn second!"

"The man's barely conscious! He's not going to be attacking you!"

"I'm sorry, Ben." Reginald aimed the gun at the man's head and was about to pull the trigger when Ben yanked his arm upwards, making the shot go astray. His escort gave him a furious look and then they struggled for control of the deadly weapon for several moments. A second shot rang out and there was a great yelp.

"Goddammit man!" screamed Reginald. "You just shot me in the bleeding leg!" He collapsed to the ground, clutching his damaged limb, trying to stop the crimson liquid from leaking anymore. Ben stared at him as if in a daze, unbelieving at what he had done. "What are you waiting for? Patch me up!"

Though he had half a mind to just leave the jerk like that, he didn't. Ben dropped the gun with difficulty as he was still clutching it with a death grip and searched in his bag for tweezers, antiseptic and bandages. As for pain relief, Reginald was on his own. Ben's needles had been broken, there was no way to administer the morphine.

_Serves him right._

Tweezers poised above the oozing wound, "This is going to hurt," he said apologetically, "but try not to move."

"I highly doubt it's going to hurt more than-" Ben put the metal inside him- "Arrrgh!"

It took longer than he would have liked to remove the bullet (no doubt Reginald's squirming did little to help matters) but eventually he managed to fish it out. And when he did, the real blood began pouring forth. There was so much of it that Ben assumed he must have lacerated a major artery and the bullet had been keeping it in check. Forgoing any attempts at sterilization, he instead began hastily wrapping bandages both directly on the injury and above it, forming a tourniquet. At first it seemed to have no effect and the white cloth simply became drenched in red but then by gradual increments it took hold and the bleeding finally slowed to a crawl. Ben sighed in relief and wrapped a few more bandages around the now soaked ones.

He looked up then to tell Reginald that he would be all right but was unsurprised to find he had passed out, both from shock and blood loss. So Ben slapped his face a few times, feeling guilty with how much pleasure he took in this, until the soldier's eyelids flickered open again.

"You're going to be okay," said Ben. "Just try to stay awake."

Reginald smiled weakly and then passed out again.

_No matter. It's probably for the best._

He surveyed his immediate surroundings and all the damage and chuckled.

_How do I get myself into these messes? _He smiled to himself. _Like father like son_.

Without another thought, he grabbed Reginald under the armpits and dragged him the rest of the way over to their car. In all this time, it was still running, so that the interior was still quite warm. That was a good thing since severe blood loss forced the remaining amount to the core organs, in order to keep the essentials running. This also had the affect of chilling a person.

_Thank God for small miracles!_

After he had laid him out on the backseat, he went back to get the other man but was met with an unwelcome sight. Though the German was still lying on the ground, he had crawled over to the gun Ben had dropped earlier and was now pointing it at him! His eyes were unfocused, in a crazed, desperate sort of way. It was probably a very good thing that he wasn't dressed as a Canadian soldier.

"Wer bist du?" he asked, which meant, "Who are you?"

Ben didn't know the proper way to form a sentence so all he said was, "Ben. Ben Murdoch. I'm a doctor."

"Was willst du?" - "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Oh, um...nichts. I was just trying to help you." The German wasn't following so Ben slowly raised his arm up and touched his head. "Verletzt."

The man touched his own forehead and appeared confused by the bump there.

"Was ist passiert?" he enquired once again.

"You crashed." Muttering to himself, "Oh what the hell is the word?" He couldn't think of it so he said, "Your car exploded. Boom!"

The German was startled by his impression and accidentally pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed an inch by his skull, making him go weak in the knees and almost making him void his bladder. He shouted and swore in his fright. After a second, the man noticed part of a hub cap by his side and then cocked his head and saw the remnants of his car, his eyes widening in understanding. Following that, he promptly held the gun out to him, handle first and looked at Ben apologetically.

"Entschuldigung!" - "Sorry!"

Ben grumbled as he made his way over there, somewhat drunkenly as his legs still felt like mush. He snatched the troublesome weapon out of his hand and immediately unloaded it, placing the remaining bullets in his coat pocket. Next Ben took the antiseptic and cleaned his wound and bandaged it up with the leftover scraps.

"Thank you."

"You speak English?" Ben asked raising his eyebrows.

Thoughtful for a moment and then, "Little. French is much easier."

(From this point on, they are speaking French but I have again translated for you).

"Why were you speaking German before? That wasn't the smartest thing to do in this area of the world."

"It is my home tongue." He shrugged, "I was scared and disoriented."

Ben nodded and then helped the man up and they slowly approached the still running car. Since Reginald was passed out in the back, the German got the passenger seat. Ben retrieved the map and began scanning it. But as he had no idea where they currently were, it made it very hard to determine a route. The German noticed his dilemma and gestured for the map.

He pointed to a spot and said, "We are here." Then he pointed to another spot, some ways from their current position and quite a detour from Saint-Quentin, on the outskirts of Paris. "I was headed there."

"Why?"

"Because it is my home of course! I moved here before the war started." Ben gave him a look, as if to say, what about your clothing then? "Oh, I was wearing this because all my other clothes were dirty. I have been away for a long time. And I'm afraid that in my haste to get home, I drove too long and fell asleep."

Ben turned around and looked at Reginald, remembering his duty.

"I'm sorry but I can't take you there. I'm already behind schedule as it is and besides which, he's going to wake up soon and really want some morphine. Not to mention he won't be too happy to see you in his car."

"How will I get home then?"

"When we get to the next checkpoint, I'll explain the situation and I'm sure they'll provide some transportation for you. You do have your papers, right?"

The German fumbled in his pockets and looked extremely distressed.

"Oh my God! My passport was in one of my bags!"

_Oh boy._

"Nevertheless, I'll just explain the situation and I'm sure everything will be fine."

He only half believed his words but there was little he could do for the man. It was impossible to avoid checkpoints in this area. They would just have to see what they would see and hope for the best.


	4. Tension

"What's the matter, Murdoch?" came the continuously terse voice of his boss.

He barely heard the words as he was lost in one of his frequent reveries of happier times and days gone by. In this instance he had been thinking of the time his family had watched Olivia take her first steps and how Ben had helped her up when she inevitably fell. Ever since that day, Ben had always been looking out for her, as if she were his own daughter and not his step-sister. And when she was older, she returned the favour, though more often than not, he didn't heed her words, something that she wasn't very keen to do anymore either for him. They had grown into very independent people and it made Murdoch a bit sad that they had lost that innocent part of themselves. If only such give and take could remain constant for all time, the world would be a better place.

"It's nothing, Driscole."

The sallow-eyed man viewed him shrewdly, clearly not buying what he was selling. However, all he said was, "I need you to look over the details for figure 8c, I think Johnson's messed them up again."

Murdoch held out his hand and the startling skinny man handed him the rolled up blueprints. After laying it out on the table and putting pen holders on either end to keep it flat, he picked up the nearby magnifying glass and began closely examining the figure. It was part of a piece that would allow much greater range for the anti-aircraft weapons and make it easier to take down the Gothas, which seemed to be capable of ever increasing heights. As for the Zeppelins, the Germans had mostly abandoned them by the time Murdoch got to England. This had something to do with the strong headwinds they were always encountering. It was almost as if nature herself was tired of the fighting and was doing her part to let the allies win the war.

In any case, Murdoch spent several minutes carefully looking over the figure. While Murdoch didn't approve of the work he was doing, he had little choice in the matter. And while it was true that he could fudge the numbers like Johnson inadvertently always seemed to, he wasn't going to. The Germans were in the habit of bombing innocents and if he could help put a stop to it, he would.

"You're right," he said glancing at Driscole, "there's a slight discrepancy with the calculation for the trajectory."

"Ha! I knew it!" exclaimed the man with as much mirth as he ever had. "This is the last time that hack screws up my operation!"

Without another word the sickly looking man marched out of there. Driscole was an American weapons expert that they had brought in especially for this project. He had recently been diagnosed with liver failure due to his drinking problem and they had given him a few months to live. Not an easily deterred man, he vowed to finish the design before his end, or until his mind was too confused (mental disorientation was a symptom towards the end caused by a build up of toxins in the brain).

With that out of the way, Murdoch was free to ruminate some more. This time his mind found something unpleasant, something that it couldn't stop focusing on from time to time. For the past three weeks he had received no word from Julia, his last letter had gone unanswered. This was particularly distressing because they had been communicating every two weeks, like clockwork, (assuming the mail hadn't been delayed, which had only happened once before). He had checked with port authorities and knew this not to be the issue. He hoped something bad hadn't happened to her or Olivia and that this was simply a case of his letter going astray. There were many instances of this occurring so he figured it was bound to happen to him sooner or later. To test out his theory, he had written another letter which had only recently been shipped out across the sea. It would be at least another week and a half before he knew whether he was right or not.

In the meantime, he would have to make due with the knowledge that at least his son was well and good. Though Ben had found it hard to adjust at first, he seemed to be making great strides with his occupation, as well as a certain lovely lady. According to Ben, they would often times have conversations about life and death and everything in-between. The way he described her, she sounded remarkably similar to Julia, intelligent and unafraid of the unknown. Murdoch was happy in the knowledge that his son had such a person to rely on and would be glad to welcome her to the family, which as Ben's most recent letter informed him, was quite a possibility. To think that his little boy was all grown up and engaged! What a boggling notion! It seemed just yesterday that he was playing with his toy horses and dreaming of being a veterinarian. Unfortunately as Ben found out later on in life, that profession was mostly on its way out. The rise of the modern automobile had seen to that. So whoever tried to hold on to the old ways was doomed to live in poverty all their lives. His son had seen reason and instead focused his interests on the biology of humans.

Sometimes Murdoch wondered if he maybe would have been better off trying to make it as a vet, rather than becoming a doctor. For starters, his son wouldn't be in harms way, and for that matter, neither would he. The good news: there was always time to change course. From what he understood, there was a strange practice popping up in America in which people were taking their sick pet dogs and cats to a specialist. Some of these people were even willing to pay quite handsomely. It was all very silly but if it meant his son could do what he had dreamed of doing as a boy, wasn't that all that mattered? In the end, weren't dreams what made life worth living?

* * *

Olivia tried to read her book but was continuously distracted by her mother. She was pacing that same row of rug that her father had worn through and it was the first time Olivia had ever seen her take up his habits.

_That's not a good sign_.

"Mother, would you care to take a stroll through the park? The weather has greatly improved this morning. Most of the snow has melted."

No response.

Olivia sighed, put _Pride and Prejudice_ down and went over to her, barring her path and making her take notice of her presence.

Her mother looked at her confusedly and said, "Olivia?"

"That's good," she said smirking, "you still remember my name."

Frowning, "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing at all mother."

_Just that you seem to only ever speak their names._

"I was just asking if you wanted to get some fresh air. I have some time before my shift starts and I think it would be beneficial for you."

Her mother was thoughtful for a moment and then her eyes darted to the floor in front of the door. "I don't know. What if-"

"Mother," she said losing her temper, "if the mail was going to come today, it would have already done so! It's time for you to get a grip on reality! It's time for you to shape up!"

Julia looked off to the side and Olivia felt a little bad about her outburst. This had gone on long enough, as far as she was concerned. But Olivia wasn't heartless, she was just better at hiding her emotion, something she had learned to do quickly at work. However, at the moment she wasn't feeling sad but rather disconcerted. Here was her strong willed mother acting so out of character that it unnerved her. It unnerved her to the point where she lashed out at her in a way that was very rude and disrespectful.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"No, I'm sorry," Julia said, tears forming in her eyes. She embraced her daughter, softly stroking her long brown hair. Olivia couldn't remember the last time they had hugged. No that wasn't true, she knew exactly when it last was. It had been the day that Ben had shipped out. "I've been neglecting you. I haven't been a very good mother lately."

"It's okay, I know what you must be going through."

"That's no excuse. You must be feeling this just as keenly as me but you didn't fall apart." Silence and then in a voice full of conviction, "You're right. It's time for me to shape up."

They parted slightly, Olivia looking up into eyes that were like mirrors, "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes, dear, I most certainly do. I will call the hospital directly and let Samuel know that I will be in later today."

Without another word, she marched into the kitchen to place the call, leaving Olivia watching her with a faint smile across her face. It was wonderful to see her taking charge again. She only hoped that it would last. But Olivia had a good feeling that it might because her mother had already taken a month off as it was and when you are the Dean of Medicine at one of the largest hospitals in Toronto, you can't exactly hide away for all time. Luckily for Julia, she had had an abundance of vacation and sick days saved up over the past twelve years so people hadn't asked too many questions about her sudden and extended departure. Though, undoubtedly, they knew the real reason.

Olivia settled back into her seat to continue reading. She was at the part where Darcy had made a very awkward proposal to Elizabeth. Though he had been very rude to her, Olivia couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Obviously he could have handled the situation better but what did everyone expect? The man had been bred a certain way and it was very hard to fight ones nature when it was so deeply ingrained in ones being. She applauded the man for following his heart and having the courage to speak his mind, even if he did it very ill. She wondered again for what must have been the hundredth time, if she could ever do the same thing?

No one knew of her love for James, not even her best friend Holly Crabtree. If she couldn't even share this information with her, what did that make Olivia? A coward beyond all measure? What exactly was she so afraid of? Holly would never dare judge her. She literally had no right the way she carried on with the boys at school. And she certainly would never dare tell anyone else, not if she didn't want her father finding out about her exploits. It was decided then. She would tell Holly her secret after work today.

* * *

They approached the barrier and one of the armed soldiers raised his hand, signalling them to stop. Ben did so with a heavy heart, unsure of what would happen next. The stout, bearded man approached their vehicle slowly, all the while eyeing the German (Dieter Meister, unfortunate, I know) suspiciously. The other guard stood watch some distance off to the side with only vague interest. Ben rolled down the window just before he got there. He had a good idea of expected protocol as Reginald had passed through a few of these check points before the incident.

"State your business here," the soldier asked in a surprisingly low voice.

"We're on our way to Saint-Quentin. I'm to help tend to those in need there. I'm a doctor you see."

The man glanced at the two bandaged passengers. "I see you couldn't wait to get started." Ben was optimistic that things would work out since this man seemed to have a sense of humour. Then again, he had thought Reginald was a jolly fellow and look how that turned out? "Yeah, we had word that you would be coming through. But you are very late in getting here. What the hell happened?" he asked gesturing to the others. "It looks like you guys were bombed!"

How much did he really want to divulge? "There was a...misunderstanding, that's all."

He laughed. "Some misunderstanding. Remind me never to get on your bad side!" Ben forced himself to smile. "But seriously, we only had word of two men coming through. That German there, don't add up. What's his story?"

"Suffice it to say that several undesirable elements befell us on our way here and I had no choice but to bring him along."

"In English please."

Ben sighed. "Dieter here crashed and his car blew up."

The soldier arced his eyebrows. "No shit?"

"None at all."

He chuckled again. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

Ben shrugged. "It's a strange story."

"You got that right." Brief silence. "All right, you can go on through."

Ben was taken aback. Why didn't he want to see their papers? Whatever the reason, he wasn't stupid enough to bring attention to this slip up. But he did need to enquire something else.

"Is there by any chance a way that Dieter here could get a ride to Paris?"

Confused, "I thought you said you were going to Saint-Quentin?"

"Well, yes, we are," - he looked at Reginald, - "well, I am at least. I'll need to drop the private here somewhere else to get some proper medical care, but as I said before, Dieter's car is out of commission and he has no way of getting there and I have other duties to attend to."

The bearded man was thoughtful for a moment. "We've got just the one vehicle here and we can't leave our posts any time soon. But there's a small base camp not too far from here." He cocked his head in the direction of the other soldier, "It's where we bunk up for the night. Maybe they can help you out with both of your problems?"

"That sounds promising. Could you show me on the map?"

"Give it here." He pointed to a place some distance off the road. "It's right around there. Can't miss it."

"Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it. And try not to get into any more trouble."

"Will do."

Ben started to roll the window up when the man snapped his fingers. "Oh and mention my name when you get there. That should smooth things over. It's Gerald Dean."

Was he being serious? Judging by his face, apparently so. "Again, thank you very much."

As Ben pulled on out, he wondered if his luck would hold out at the base camp or if people there wouldn't be quite so friendly towards Dieter. According to the map, he would find out in about twenty minutes.


	5. Tensions Break

Ben took the dirt road for a ways until there was the unmistakable sight of a base camp up ahead. Before he could pull in, another soldier stopped him and approached his side.

"State your business," he said, giving the others curious glances.

"We need some help. Gerald Dean sent us."

The man gave him a funny look and then laughed. "You mean Frankie?"

"Uh, I suppose so," Ben said quizzically. "He was a big man and had a beard-"

The soldier nodded. "Yeah that's him. That bastard is always giving out stupid names like that to passersby. I guess it helps make his job less tedious or something. Anyway, if he thought you were all right, that's good enough for me. So what can we do for you here at camp Sabre?"

"Well," Ben said, gesturing around him.

"Right. The doc is over there in that tent."

"And what about a transport for this man here?"

The soldier raised his eyebrows. "You want us to take the German somewhere for you?"

"If it's not too much trouble, yes, I would like you to take him to Paris."

"That's not part of my jurisdiction, you'll have to talk with the Major about that. He's over there, just across from the doc."

"Thank you."

Dieter helped Ben unload Reginald which got several curious glances. If only the German knew what the man had almost done to him, he would have dropped him on the ground that instant and stepped on his wound until he squealed like a pig. At least, that's what Ben would have done if their places were reversed.

The doctor was reading a paper in the corner. Without looking up, he pointed to an empty bed. "Just put him over there. I'll be with you in a moment."

They laid him down and a few minutes later the older man came over. He appeared to take no interest in Dieter and only slightly more for the injured soldier.

"A single gunshot wound," he said in a bored manner after unwrapping most of the bandages. "Whoever did this did a piss poor job. This wound doesn't even appear to be sterilized."

"That was my work, _sir_."

"Well, son, you still have a lot to learn then. Get me the antiseptic over there and I'll show you how to treat this properly."

"I know how to do this properly, doctor, I was simply rushed and I had to stop the bleeding. I felt that took priority."

Shrugging, "If you say so but that doesn't change the fact that this was badly done. He might already have an infection at this point."

Ben was annoyed with his attitude even if he was right, so he left the man to it, gesturing towards Dieter to follow him into the adjacent tent.

A British accent could be heard as they entered, "...well and good but what about-" the stately dressed man looked up from his telephone at the intruders. "I'll have to call you back, Markham."

"I'm sorry for interrupting, Major..."

"It's Wesley, Major Wesley and I'm glad you interrupted me. Anything to get away from that tosser!" Ben smiled slightly. "Well, come in, old boy, come in!" They did. "Now what can I do for you?"

"My friend here needs a ride to Paris and I can't give it to him as I have to go to Saint-Quentin. I'm already behind schedule as it is and I was hoping one of your men could take him."

"Hmm," he muttered, eyeing Dieter. "And how did this man come to be under your care?"

"Long story short, sir, his car is permanently out of order."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "Can he understand what we are saying?"

"I'm not sure. He claims to know a little English though."

"Well, I have a supply convoy going out to Paris in a few days time. I don't see why he couldn't tag along with the lads."

"Thank you very much, sir!" Ben told Dieter what had been said and he also thanked the Major.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said.

Ben took the Major aside, "There's just one thing, sir. I'm a bit afraid for his safety until then. The other man we came in with was rather violent towards him."

"Is that so? And what is his name?"

Feeling like a rat but going through with this nonetheless. "Reginald Cumberbatch, sir."

The Major made a sour face. "A British man? Well, I'll just have to have a talking with him."

"That won't be possible right now, sir. He's unconscious."

Surprised, "What the deuce did you say happened again?"

"That's not important, sir. All that matters is that you keep them apart until then."

"I don't see why that would be a problem. This unruly private you mentioned is out cold!"

"Nevertheless..."

"I'll have a man keep watch on your German friend here. You have my word as a gentleman and an officer."

"Thank you again, sir," he said shaking his hand.

Turning to Dieter, he did the same thing. "Prend soin de toi, Dieter."

"Toi aussi, Ben. Et merci. Tu as sauvé ma vie. Je te suis à jamais reconnaissant."

"Pas de problème, je suis sure que tu aurais fait la même chose pour moi."

Before Ben left, he got a refill from one of the gas canisters sitting around and then was on his way. He hoped everything would work out for Dieter. The unsettling thing to him was that he may never know if the German ever made it back home or not. He had no way to contact him and didn't have an address. All he could do was pray that things would turn out for the best, something he frequently had to do for himself. And now that he was heading to the most dangerous location yet, he would need all the faith he could get.

* * *

Olivia came home from a long day of work to find her mother kneeling on the floor in front of the door with tears streaming down her face. She was holding a piece of paper that was now fairly splotched and wet. There was another by her knee, even more soaked. Olivia froze with fear and anxiety, wondering what this unusual sight foretold. Finally she closed the door and found some courage to speak.

"M-mother, what's the matter?"

Julia looked up, their eyes met and she broke into a large grin. "Your father and brother are all right!"

Olivia released her pent up breath and teared up. Then without kneeling, she embraced her warmly on the floor.

"Oh what wonderful news!" she exclaimed, smiling widely. "Did they say what happened?"

"See for yourself, dear."

Julia handed the soiled paper to her daughter and Olivia almost immediately gave up. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, "but I can't read this."

After handing it back to a sheepishly grinning Julia, Olivia stood behind her, resting her chin on her shoulder, as if she would be able to follow along with her. Julia cleared her throat of phlegm and began thus:

"February 17th, 1918-"

"But that's almost a month ago!" exclaimed Olivia.

"Yes," said Julia more calmly, "the letters were misdirected to a man who was out of town for the past two months. He only came home this afternoon. So when our mail man was informed of this, he felt so bad about it that he rushed them over here after his normal hours to give them to us."

"Bless his soul!"

"Quite. Remind me to give him a big tip tomorrow."

Olivia nodded absentmindedly, something that Julia could feel but not see.

Clearing her throat again, "Dearest mother and sister, you will never guess what has happened! I wish I could be there to tell you in person so that I could see the looks on your faces, but as it is, this letter will have to do. I am delighted to say that I am engaged to be married!"

"What?!" said Olivia loudly, making her mother wince. "Sorry. But who could he possibly be engaged to?!"

"Don't you recall that French woman he mentioned in his last letter?"

Silence. "Oh yes, I had almost forgotten it was so long ago!"

Continuing, "Valerie has agreed to be my wife! I am still reeling in shock from this development as you no doubt are as well. I must say that I am the happiest of men right now! I can't wait for you to meet her! I believe you will get along famously!

I pray that everything is okay back home and I miss you both terribly. All my love, Ben."

"Oh mother!" she said squeezing her shoulders. "How wonderful!"

"Yes, dear," Julia replied gayly, clasping one of her daughter's hands, "I am quite over the moon!"

After a moment, "Read father's letter now."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Olivia?"

Olivia rolled her eyes out of habit and then realized that her mother couldn't see her. "_Please_ read father's letter now."

"All right, since you asked so nicely. February 23rd, 1918, Dearest Julia and Olivia, I hope you are finding yourselves well and that you are continuing to keep yourselves occupied." A slight pause, "There is not much to say on this end except more of the same. I am still working on the project but am optimistic that we are nearing completion. Currently I am in _ (the location was censored) but as always, we move around constantly so that by the time you read this, I will be somewhere else altogether.

I wonder if you know of Ben's exciting news yet or not? I would not want to spoil it for him so I will not say anything further here. You will let me know your impressions about this development in your next letter.

As always, you are utmost in my thoughts, and I long for the day that I will return to you. All my love, William."

"Oh mother!" Olivia cried again. "I am so happy!"

"As am I darling, as am I!"

They embraced again and then Julia standing up, said, "I better inform Thomas and George of this lovely news! They would want to know right away!"

"And I will go see if dinner is ready! All this excitement has left me quite famished!"

It wasn't until an hour later that Olivia realized she had neglected to do the thing that she had said she was going to do after work. Not one to back out of things once her mind was set, she told her mother that she was going over to the Crabtree's for a bit.

"All right, dear. Have fun! But be careful." Olivia rolled her eyes and this time her mother said, smiling, "I saw that."

Olivia grinned too as Julia hadn't called her out on that for many months. It was nice to have things getting back to the way they used to be and she almost didn't want to leave. But she had delayed revealing her secret for long enough and was just about at the bursting point. If she didn't confide in someone sometime soon, it was going to spew out of her at the worst possible moment. She half considered her mother as confidant but then decided against it. Her mother had had quite enough excitement for one day, she didn't want to spoil her mood with awkwardness. Besides which, Aunt Ruby was scheduled to come over any minute now which didn't leave her with enough time.

She walked the short distance down the street to the Crabtree's large, ornate house. It was much larger than her own. This was as much due to her grandfather's wealth as it was to George's. He had made a series of very fruitful stock market investments in the early 1900s and as such now had a wealth that rivalled that of the Ogden's. However, they had this house more out of necessity than as a show of superior standing in the community. I'm of course referring to all of their children. All told, there were seven of them and all girls at that! But Holly was the oldest. Olivia and her had been born only a few months apart and had played together ever since then. Though they had grown a bit apart over the years, they still considered each other their closest, dearest friend, even if Olivia thought she was too shallow and spoiled sometimes.

After knocking on the enormous mahogany door, a servant promptly opened it and let her in, taking her coat immediately afterwards.

"Thank you, Denis."

"My pleasure, Miss Murdoch. Miss Crabtree is in her room...on the telephone."

Olivia made a bit of a face because if this was the case it would be difficult to get her off of it. No doubt she was chatting up some new boy she met today. Instead of saying something, she nodded and headed towards the beautiful marble staircase. Before she got too far, Uncle George came over to greet her. His hair was still just as dark as she ever recalled it being. He was not yet at the age where it would start changing. However, his face was certainly more lined than the day she first remembered meeting him. He had also put on a bit of weight around the middle (due to his ability to afford larger amounts of food and rich food at that). Regardless, he was still quite handsome.

"Olivia," he said beaming. "I heard the good news from your Aunt. You must be relieved."

"Yes, I am but I will be even more relieved when they finally come home."

Uncle George nodded. "I completely agree. It's a shame that the war has gone on for as long as it has. I hope when this one is over, there will never be another."

Olivia didn't want to burst his bubble and was trying to come up with something to say when there was a shriek and something attacked her midsection, making her stagger slightly.

"Rebecca, what have I told you about doing that?" said Uncle George in his most stern manner, which came across as slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry, father!" said the little six year old girl, releasing her hold on Olivia.

She got over her surprise quickly since the Crabtree's youngest daughter almost always did this to her since she had been old enough to run.

"Don't apologize to me, dear."

"I'm sorry, Olivia!"

"It's fine, cousin," she said patting her head as if she were a dog. "I'm used to it by now."

_But when you get bigger, that could cause a problem._

"All right then," said Uncle George scooping up Rebecca with some difficulty (she was a squirmer). "I'll leave you to it."

As Olivia ascended the stairs she could hear the happy shrieks of the little girl echoing throughout the grand hall. It made her think back to a time when her father used to shower her with that much attention and the thought made her sad so she quickly pushed it aside. Another of her cousins peeked her head out of her room as she passed but quickly closed it again. That one was named Carol and was exceedingly shy.

When she was outside Holly's room, she could hear the muffled giggles and grimaced. Collecting her thoughts, she knocked on her door and waited. There was a breach in the merriment and a loud, "Give me five minutes, father! I'm busy!" Talking commenced right after and she knocked again, this time with more force. Footsteps stomped over to her and the door flung open. Her face was angry and then it abruptly changed when she saw who it was.

"Oh Olivia!" she said hugging her. "It's been awhile! How nice to see you!" Holly took her by the hand and into her spacious bedroom. It must have been three times the size of her own and yet it was still crammed with all sorts of things, most of which were completely useless but which she had had to have at one point or another. And since her father was incapable of saying no, she had received each and every last one.

Her cousin went over to the phone and said, "I'll call you back Simon." Then she sat cross-legged in the middle of her gigantic bed and patted the spot in front of her. Olivia took the proffered place and they just stared at each other for a moment.

Holly took both her hands in hers and with a rare serious expression said, "Tell me what's on your mind, cousin."

Taken aback, "Is it that obvious?"

"To me it is."

Olivia pondered the best way to broach what she deemed as a sensitive topic. And surprisingly Holly didn't push her to hurry up and spill the beans. Perhaps she thought this was in relation to her family and the war?

"Well," Olivia began slowly, "I'm not entirely sure how to say this."

Holly said, "Take your time."

"What about Simon?"

She waved her hand, "Oh Simon won't mind. He's lucky I even spoke to him in the first place!"

Olivia nodded. "You know I've taken a job at the airstrip right?"

"Of course! Who doesn't? And can I just say, I think you are an inspiration to women everywhere!"

Bewildered, "You do?"

"Why wouldn't I, silly?"

It was unlike Holly to be so supportive of her sometimes strange schemes. If she was that receptive to her taking the job, maybe she wouldn't make a big deal about James?

"I have something to confess." Holly was silent but Olivia could see the hunger in her eyes. She was doing her best to hide it but Olivia could see right through her disguise and almost decided against revealing her secret after all. But she forged on ahead and then like a band aid, ripped it off all at once.

"I'm in love with James and I have been for many months." Silence. Holly appeared to have not heard her. "Um, did you hear what I said Holly?"

Her cousin blinked a few times. "James? James _Pendrick_?"

"Yes."

"You're in-" she made a face- "but he's _so_ old!" Olivia scowled. "What? It's true isn't it?"

"That's beside the point."

"Oh," said Holly staring off into space.

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting?" she asked annoyed, unintentionally quoting Darcy.

"I don't know what to say. I wasn't expecting this."

"Yes, well, neither was I!" exclaimed Olivia, losing her temper. "Do you think I want to feel this way about him? I'd give anything not to!" Against her wishes, tears started to form and Holly finally sprung into action, embracing Olivia and putting her head on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Olivia," she said stroking her back. "You're not the first person to have such a crush and you won't be the last. In time, you will get over it."

"How do you know? You can't possibly!"

"You're right, cousin, I can't. But I might be able to help you."

Pulling away so that she could look into her eyes, "How?"

Holly winked and said, "You'll see."


	6. Coming Home?

It was a week later and so far Holly's master plan to ease her suffering had been a disaster. Olivia gave her credit though, she certainly was trying her hardest, something Olivia hadn't seen in a very long time. Every day after work her cousin would ambush her with a new young gentleman escort. The first time this had happened, she had simply thought her cousin was there to check out her workplace, though later when she thought about it, she really should have known better. This was exactly the sort of thing Holly would think of to take her mind off of James. The first encounter had also been the worst. The fellow had been rather off put by her attire, and dishevelled hair, with grease streaks all across her face and forearms. He tried admirably to hide his disgust but failed miserably in the end and hurriedly remembered some urgent appointment that he had to attend.

Afterwards and not surprisingly, the two girls had had a bit of a fight. It took a long time to convince Holly that she had been in the wrong. First for not informing her of her plans, secondly for bringing the potential suitor there and thirdly for expecting Olivia to have been more ladylike at the airstrip of all places! Finally her well meaning but clueless cousin conceded to her mistake. Olivia had thought that that would be the end of this farce but then the very next evening, several hours after she had returned home from work, Holly had shown up again with a different boy. That visitation had gone much better than the last but Olivia had no interest in him whatsoever. The same thing could be said for the next boy and the next and the next. They were too empty headed for her tastes and it didn't help matters that they seemed much more interested in Holly than herself.

Eventually Olivia became so irritated by this situation that she avoided going home for as long as possible, something Julia couldn't help but notice.

"You've been coming home later and later Olivia. Not to mention all of those gentleman callers. Is there something I should know?"

"Well," she said, hesitating, wondering how much to divulge, "it's nothing to be concerned over, if that's what you're worried about."

"Dear, the fact that you say that makes me think that there _is_ something I should be worried about." She patted the spot beside her on the sofa where she had been reading the evening paper. "I'd appreciate it if you'd come and talk to me."

Olivia thought about that for a moment. What was the harm? It really wasn't that big a deal, was it?

Joining her mother she said, "Holly decided to try and help me out a bit but unfortunately she's only served to make matters worse."

"And what exactly is your problem?"

"Well," she said slowly, looking away, "I don't want you to make a big deal about this. Do you promise not to?"

"Of course, Olivia."

Deep breath and then very seriously, "I'm afraid to say that I've fallen in love with James."

Her mother was silent for a moment. "And? Is that all this is about?"

Olivia gave her an incredulous look, feeling instantly relieved, like a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "You mean you aren't mad?"

"Why on earth would I be mad about that? It's perfectly understandable that you would have developed feelings for someone that you've spent the greater part of your life around. In fact, I remember when I was your age I was quite infatuated with one of my teachers. He was twenty years my senior. When I was a few years older, we courted in secret for a time as I knew my father would not have approved."

"Because he was so much older than you?"

Julia smiled sardonically, "Because he would have been considered beneath me, beneath the Ogdens."

"And someone found out? Is that why things didn't work out between you?"

Her mother shook her head. "No they never found out, in fact other than your Aunt, I've never told a living soul. No, it was my own fault. I was so intent on my career, on moving up the ladder, that I said goodbye to him and travelled to Europe to further my studies. It was difficult to do but I refused to have someone holding me back. I refused to become just like every other woman I knew, an empty headed socialite with little to nothing to offer to the world."

"Do you regret that decision? Of leaving him behind?"

She was thoughtful for a moment. "Sometimes. But in the end I know I did what was right for me at the time."

"So what happened to him?"

"As far as I know, he continued teaching for many years after. Eventually he married and had several children. They probably have their own families by now." Brief silence. "But enough about my past, I want to discuss your intentions towards James."

"What is there to discuss? Nothing will ever happen between us. He's old enough to be my grandfather." Her voice broke, "And I bet he's never even thought of me in that way. I mean, that would be pretty creepy if he had! I'm practically his daughter! It's hopeless! Completely hopeless!"

She began sobbing and Julia quickly embraced her. "Oh my poor girl," she said sadly, rubbing her back. "Let it out, dear, let it all out."

The next morning after Olivia's emotional purge, (in which she felt better than she had in quite some time), they received another letter.

"Mother!" Olivia exclaimed, "There's another letter from father!"

Julia raised her eyebrows and dropped the bagel she had been eating. "So soon?"

"He must have gotten worried after there was no response from us and sent another."

"Well open it, dear."

Olivia walked over to the kitchen table as she did so. It was dated about a week earlier. Sitting down, she began reading. "Dearest Julia and Olivia, I must confess to being worried about your lack of communication. Is everything all right over there? Has there been a postal strike of some sort? I do not believe this is likely to be the case. It's far more likely that something happened to my previous letter and so I have written another to hopefully prove my hypothesis. I can only pray that this one does not go astray. Otherwise I fear I will go mad with worry as you no doubt have already. It pains me greatly to think of you in such distress. I hope to allay some of this grievance by informing you of some breaking news." Olivia shared a look with her mother and then continued, smiling. "The project is finally nearing completion! We have just about designed the perfect _ and it will put the finishing touch on the _! If all goes according to plan, I will be able to come home soon! The idea has left me positively giddy! I pray that this letter finds you in good health and hope to someday soon see both of your lovely faces again! All my love, William."

* * *

Ben had been at the Hindenburg line for all of four days before the next battle commenced. The Germans launched an offensive attack, trying to gain additional land and seize the British supply ports. Strangely the German commander Ludendorff changed tactics only a few days into the advance and decided to try and separate the British and French armies from one another instead. Thankfully the Germans were unable to supply themselves properly so that the Allies were easily able to crush their advance and cause massive casualties. Needless to say the Germans were forced to retreat in order to regroup. Such a decisive victory led many to believe that this marked the beginning of the end of the war.

* * *

It was April 3rd when Murdoch finally received word from his overseas family again (he had still been getting the occasional letter from Ben, though the last one had had quite a depressed tone to it even though his son had tried to hide it). His suspicions had been confirmed, something that he was quite happy about. Knowing that they were alive and well did wonders for his mood and Driscole couldn't help but comment.

"You seem to be in grand spirits today, Murdoch, and somehow I doubt it has to do with putting the final touches on the FX-40 (the anti-aircraft weapon). Care to enlighten me?"

Happily, "My family has contacted me for the first time in over a month!"

"Ah," the sickly man said, "I thought it might be something like that. I can't claim to have had that pleasure since coming here."

Slight eyebrow raise. "You mean to tell me that your family hasn't _once_ contacted you?"

Grinning, "I should hope not. They're all dead."

Taken aback. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Shrugging. "It is what it is, Murdoch, that's life. The good news: I'll be joining them soon enough. I wonder if they'll be happy to see me?" Silence. "Hey, Murdoch, you're a religious man, right?"

"Yes, Driscole, I like to think so."

Seriously, "Good. I've been wondering something for awhile now, about heaven that is."

"Go on, sir."

Smirking, "Do you think they have an open bar there?" Murdoch made a face and Driscole laughed. "You take everything too seriously, Murdoch. You need to loosen up a bit."

Stiffly, "If you'll excuse me, sir, I have a letter to compose."

Six days later the project was officially completed and they would test it out on the next Gothas to try and attack the city. Murdoch anxiously waited, praying that all would go well and he would be allowed to leave this despoiled place. He couldn't bear the thought of having to start over again from scratch. About three days later, the planes could be heard overhead and Murdoch held his breath. He felt the vibrations as the Germans began bombing indiscriminately, like they always did. This continued for several minutes until there was a noticeable lessening to the shock waves. Within half an hour, the bombing had stopped altogether. And since they normally would bomb for hours on end, Murdoch immediately realized the significance. The FX-40 had been an unbridled success!

"Thank you for your service to her majesty the Queen," said some elaborately dressed British commander the very next day. He pinned a gold medal to Murdoch's chest. "Take this as a symbol of her undying gratitude."

Despite himself and his stance against the war, he felt a touch of pride at his accomplishment. So that as they shook hands and a picture was taken, he was smiling broadly. This process had been performed for all members of Driscole's team, totalling ten in number. Murdoch had been the last as he had been the last to join said team.

Afterwards he asked his superior for permission to go and see his son. He wanted to see him at least once before he headed back home. Up until then, he had been unable to acquire temporary leave to do so, the officials claiming he was too valuable to be put in harms way. But now that the project was completed, surely they would let him go?

"I'm sorry," said the Canadian Lieutenant, "but I can't authorize that."

Doing his best not to lose his temper he said, "I fail to see why not. My work here is done."

"For _this_ project maybe but we have something else we'd very much like you to take a look at."

Murdoch's jaw dropped. Hadn't the deal been that he'd be free to do as he pleased once he helped out here? How dare they try and change things!

"Don't look so surprised, Murdoch. You must have considered the possibility. The fact remains that you are a valuable asset to the cause and we could still use your help. But cheer up bucko! Maybe in a few weeks time I'll grant you a temporary leave."

Murdoch was still speechless so the Lieutenant patted him on the back and left him to deal with his stupefaction in peace. But being who he was, Murdoch had no intention of laying down arms quite so easily.

That night he disregarded orders and snuck out of the bunker. Once outside he silently made his way to an unattended military vehicle. This was an easy enough matter since he knew when all the patrols were. Next he hot wired the car and drove on out of there. Getting past all of the checkpoints was his next obstacle. But he had a plan. Using his extensive knowledge of how criminals went about forging papers, he had previously written up the required documents for a temporary leave. As long as the guards didn't look too closely, he was confident that they would be fooled and he would be able to get through. In any case, he was about to find out.

The first man let him pass through though he was a bit curious as to why he chose this time of night to travel. Murdoch allayed whatever confusion he had and continued on his way. On and on this went until he reached the docks, or rather some point removed from there as there was a heavy military presence here in Hastings. The local fisherman he had hired in secret came out from his hiding place at Murdoch's signal (SOS with his flashlight) and together they lifted the small craft into the shallow water. Before the elderly British man would go anywhere, he held out his hand for payment. Murdoch partially obliged him by giving him half the agreed upon amount. The other half would be given once the journey was completed. And so with a reluctant smile, the man began rowing out to sea. Once they were far enough from land, he started up the motor which significantly speed up their progress. Here was where the tricky part came in; getting past all of the naval patrols. Though the fisherman claimed to know their patterns by now, there was always the possibility that routes could be changed and that they could be caught, or worse, sunk. But if all went well, he would get to see his son again and that was too much of an enticement not to take the risk.

You may be wondering how Murdoch even knew where Ben was situated. Well, the truth is, he didn't, not exactly anyways. Though the military censored all letters, Murdoch and Ben had devised a method of getting around this. They used a simple enough cypher in their text that would reveal a hidden message when properly arranged (the letters would be jumbled you see). So based on Ben's last letter, Murdoch knew that he was stationed at Saint-Quentin, or at least _had_ been stationed there. There was no telling if he had been moved since then. But Murdoch was confident that he'd be able to locate him regardless if this was the case or not.

An hour and a half later, the fisherman cut the engines and began rowing his way over to an alcove, one that was out of view of the lighthouse or other search lights. Only an experienced sailor could have pulled off this manoeuvre in near darkness but the man managed it with ease and it was land ho!

Murdoch gave him the rest of his payment and then jumped ashore to where another of his contacts was waiting. This time it was a young French woman who had a car prepared for their hundred kilometre or so journey. She also knew how to avoid checkpoints (provided no new ones had sprung up recently) so it was likely that the remainder of the journey would be clear sailing. Likely but not certain. About three quarters of the way there, they ran into problems, but not the kind that Murdoch had been expecting. Since Francine had been driving on little known 'roads,' the terrain was quite harsh and one of the tires popped. She had a spare and quickly got to changing it while Murdoch kept watch. There was nothing to see for miles around and before he knew it, she had completed her task.

A half an hour later they were on the outskirts of Saint-Quentin. Francine refused to go any further as she didn't like being harassed by the soldiers so Murdoch paid her as well and commenced the trek in to camp. Before long he was stopped by some guards. They made him raise his hands above his head while one of them patted him down. Satisfied that he wasn't a threat, they asked his business there. He told them and they then conversed in French right in front of him, thinking he wouldn't understand them, apparently.

"Ben Murdoch," the first one said. "Have you heard of him?"

"No, I can't say that I have. Do you think this guy is making things up in order to get onto the base? Do you think he's a spy?"

"Could be but I don't think it's likely."

"Well then," replied the second soldier, "what do we do?"

"I'll go ask around and see what I can find out. You stay here and watch him."

Whining, "Why do I have to?"

"Because I'm your superior and you have to do what I say."

Angrily, "No you're not! We're the same rank!"

"Goddammit!" the first one exclaimed, "Just do as I say!"

Grumbling, "Fine but next time I feel like singing, you can't tell me to shut up!"

"Whatever." And he walked away, leaving the second man to glower at Murdoch.

Twenty minutes later the first soldier came back. But he wasn't alone. The other man's hair was quite short but there was no mistaking his son. All weariness vanished without a trace. Tears sprung into each others eyes and they both hurried to embrace one another. The two soldiers left them to it, likely embarrassed by such a display more than wanting to give them privacy.

"Father, what on earth are you doing here?"

Grinning, "I thought that was obvious, son, I wanted to see you."

Returning the smile, "Yes, I realized as much on my own. I'm just surprised to see you here. You didn't mention any kind of visit in your last letter and so I wasn't under the impression that you had leave to come here." Eyes narrowed in suspicion, "And it's very strange that you decided to show up at five thirty in the morning. It's almost as if-" Silence and then a raised eyebrow. "Wait, you did get leave, didn't you?"

Sheepishly, "Not exactly, son."

Astonished, "B-but, how did you come to be here then?"

"I have my ways."

Ben laughed which made Murdoch laugh and they were both such strangers to this sensation that they found it difficult to stop. They laughed and laughed until they were gasping for breath, until their faces hurt and tears streamed down them. Once they had recovered, Ben led him into the camp.


	7. Bittersweet Melodies

They walked around the camp, Ben pointing out things here and there, but mostly they discussed in whispered tones what had happened between him and his fiancee. At first his son was hesitant to divulge such intimate details (with his father no less) but eventually they got to the heart of the matter. Murdoch couldn't help but be very sympathetic to Ben's plight. After all, hadn't he experienced just such an issue many times over before he _finally_ married at the age of thirty eight? When he had been engaged to Liza, that had been the hardest time for him. They couldn't seem to keep their hands off one another. If she hadn't gotten sick and died, they probably would have crossed the line themselves way back when. That's not to say that things with Julia hadn't gotten out of hand several times as well.

Besides the infamous night in the park, there had been three other instances of almost sinning before they were married. The first was shortly after they were reunited when he came back from Bristol. Almost losing each other forever tended to have an aphrodisiac effect. The second was when she had tried to seduce him that evening in the morgue as they were discussing the allure of vampires. Thankfully Darcy showed up just in time before he tried something with Julia. That was the only thing Murdoch was ever grateful for in relation to that monster. And the third time had been the night they were engaged. But by the grace of God, he had managed to cool off each and every time before anything happened and by doing so kept his virtue intact. All four times had been very near things though and they had been living in the city, around respectable society members, and the constant threat of scandal.

Ben had had no such restraints and Murdoch was proud beyond words that his son had been able to resist for as long as he did. And when he could no longer and even in such a hellish place, he had done the right thing, even if it was the most difficult and least desirable course of action, even if it now left him depressed and miserable (the parallel between this instance and his own self imposed exile to the Yukon, was not lost on him). Murdoch didn't know what would have happened if Darcy hadn't turned out to be the worst kind of sinner and ended his own life. Would something untoward have happened between Julia and him? Would he have held fast and true to his beliefs for all time, even if he saw how unhappy she had been with him? Or would he have eventually broken down and decided their love was worth the risk of eternal damnation? Would he have cared? Would he have renounced his faith in order to be with her while she was still married? In order to be happy? There was no way to tell now and frankly the thought chilled Murdoch to the core.

All that being said, Murdoch hated to see his son in such a state and told him as much.

"You should just get married." Ben looked at him incredulously. "I know it's not ideal, son, but I hate to see you suffer needlessly. I'm sure we could acquire some rings without too much difficulty. And there's bound to be a Roman Catholic church somewhere nearby,"- he smirked- "this is _France_ after all."

Wide-eyed, "But what about mother and sister? I'd be denying them the opportunity to be a part of the ceremony. And besides that, wasn't it always your dream to see me get married at St. Bartholomew's because you yourself never did?"

"As I said before, I know it's less than ideal but I'm sure your mother and sister would understand. They'd just want you to be happy, as do I. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

His son seemed to be at a loss for words and simply hugged him again, Murdoch patting him on the back softly. Afterwards they immediately launched into preparations for the wedding but they were cut short by an unwelcome guest.

A surly looking officer and the two soldiers from before approached them.

_Darn. I thought I'd have a little more time._

"William Murdoch," said the officer sternly, "you are to come with me. Right now."

He shared a look with his son and then willingly went with the officer, knowing that if he didn't he'd just be dragged out by his two goons, which would force Ben to react and make this situation even more unpleasant.

At the base headquarters (a large tent), Murdoch was greeted by another officer, this time of higher rank.

"Leave us," he said with a strangely effeminate voice. They complied instantly. "So," said the man, as he poured himself a drink, "you're this Murdoch fellow that has everyone in Britain up in arms?" He looked him up and down, "I was expecting someone younger, but I must admit, you are still an impressive looking specimen."

Feeling extremely uncomfortable with this comment and especially with the way he was looking at him, he decided to speed up the process so he could get out of there. "What do they intend to do to me?"

"Right to the point," he said, taking a sip. "I like that in a man." Murdoch didn't respond. "I've been informed that you are quite a valuable asset to us and as such should be treated with respect. Therefore, you are to remain put until your commanding officer can deal with you as he sees fit."

"And that is all?"

"Yes, that is all...for now."

And so it was that Murdoch and Ben had just enough time to work out the logistics for the wedding (including getting in contact with Valerie) before he was summoned to the tent again. This time David Turner (the Canadian Lieutenant who had denied him leave) was there. Thankfully the other officer was no where to be found.

"That was some disappearance you pulled, Murdoch. I've decided to call it the Great Escape."

"Sir-"

"I wasn't done speaking." Smiling, "This is a rather funny situation I think." Murdoch gave him a puzzled look. "You see, if you hadn't been quite so hasty, you would have been brought to France through proper channels."

"What do you mean?" he asked mystified.

"That other project we wanted you to take a look at, it was to involve the tanks."

_Oh, now I see._

"And since they are all over here, naturally we would have had to move you over here."

"Why didn't you just tell me that before?"

"I didn't think it necessary. I certainly didn't expect you to try what you did and so soon afterwards at that."

"What happens now?"

"Now? Now we go on as planned Murdoch."

Surprised, "What about punishment?"

"The thought did cross my mind once or twice when I first found out. But no one was hurt and I have things I need you to take a look at. So get your things together. We are moving out at 14:00 hours."

"No," he said.

Raised eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"No, _sir_."

Angrily, "Listen here, Murdoch-"

Even more angry, "No, _you_ listen, Turner, if you continue to want my help, you're going to have to do something for _me_ first."

Scowling, "How dare you presume-"

Darkly, "I wasn't finished speaking." The man opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn't respond. "I've had it with military politics. When you make a deal, you are supposed to honour it. You didn't do that for me. But, if you were to, I don't know...let my son and his fiancee leave the war right this instant, I _might _be willing to forgive and forget."

Lieutenant Turner stood there quietly seething for several moments before he calmed down enough to respond in a dignified manner.

"I suppose that could be arranged. But know this, Murdoch, you won't be going anywhere until this war is over."

"If that's the case then I have another demand. I want to see my son's wedding before you take me away from here. Everything's already arranged, so we can be out of here no later than 18:00 hours."

"Fine," he choked out after a few seconds.

"Good," said Murdoch smiling without mirth, "I'm glad we reached an agreement so amicably."

When Ben learned of the deal his father had made he became very emotional. "Father, it's all my fault that you're here in the first place! Can you ever forgive me?"

In a rare gesture, Murdoch kissed him on the forehead, the last time had been when he was just a boy. "I forgave you long ago, son."

"But I can't let you do this! Not again!"

"I'm your father, Ben, it's my duty to look out for you. How can you ask any less of me?"

Though the ceremony was beautiful, it was of course lacking in many ways but the trio (and Valerie's parents) did their best not to be disappointed and simply enjoy the wonderful occasion. Murdoch had never felt more affection and pride for his son as he did when the priest announced them husband and wife. It was a moment he would cherish forever, until his dying day.

Afterwards was a bittersweet affair. They both had to pretend not to be sad that they would now be parted so rudely, at the height of their jubilation. Murdoch hugged them both and wished them the best of luck in their new life together. And within the hour, they were boarding a military vessel used for transporting injured soldiers back home. Not content to be parted from their only daughter for God knows how long, Valerie's parents had made the drastic decision to go with them, to Canada. So it was that only Murdoch would be waiting a long time to see his family again, assuming the war ever ended and he was still alive by then.

* * *

A few days after they had left port, Ben needed a break from his sexually demanding wife and so decided to get some fresh air and take a look around the ship. About half an hour later he came across the large room where most of the injured soldiers were kept. Though he didn't particularly want to experience that whole mess again, he felt compelled to, as if some unknown force was guiding him. Amongst the mass of men, he saw something that caught his eye, yet for the life of him, he couldn't say what it was. Without further ado he headed in that direction and ended up in front of a soldier with his head and eyes bandaged up. The job had been poorly done so Ben decided to redo it. He retrieved some supplies from a nearby nurse and then got to work unwrapping the semi-conscious soldiers head. Besides the fact that his head wounds were fairly gruesome (some shrapnel had hit him in the face and skull), Ben recognized this man! This was his friend, John Brackenreid!

Considering how long he had been in the war, fighting in the trenches, it was a miracle that he hadn't been killed before now. No doubt his father's additional training before he had shipped out had turned John into a very astute soldier, one that was not easily overwhelmed or caught unawares. But even so, no matter how well trained a person was, there was no guarantee that they would remain unscathed for all time. And now it appeared that it was his friends turn. Ben had hoped to be reunited with him in better condition but fate was not always a kind mistress, of this he was amply aware of by now.

"John," he said loudly, close to his ear,"can you hear me? It's Ben, Ben Murdoch."

The injured man stirred slightly at that and opened his eyes. Ben didn't like the way they looked but didn't comment on that out loud.

"Ben?" he said weakly, holding out his hand, "Is that really you?"

"Yes my friend," he replied, clasping it firmly, "it's really me."

Quietly, "I think I'm in trouble, Ben."

"Nonsense, John, you'll be just fine. Your injuries aren't that severe. It's nothing I can't handle."

Silence and then whimpering, "Ben, I-I can't see you. I think I've gone...blind."

His fears had been confirmed but by the grace of God he kept it together and remained strong for his battered friend. "I'm right here, John," he said squeezing his hand, "I'm right here. Everything's going to be all right. I promise."

After Ben re-wrapped his head, there was nothing else he could do for him except pray that his eyes would heal on their own and his sight would be miraculously restored. Needless to say, when Valerie learned of this, it put a damper on their honeymoon. And since that was the case, even though they had been released of duty, they both felt compelled to get their hands dirty again and help tend to those in need.

* * *

In the ensuing months, Murdoch had been moved around more times than he could count, far more than he had been in Britain. However, near the end of September he found himself back at St. Quentin. The Allies were preparing to launch a counterattack and hoped to permanently breach the line. The ensuing battle was unlike anything he had witnessed thus far. Both sides seemed to be demonically possessed, they were that set on destroying each other. Unfortunately the Germans had the advantage as they had spent the previous two winters constructing what they believed to be an impenetrable defence. And so far, this idea had been holding true. No matter what the Allies tried, they could not breach the line. Again and again they were pushed back. If they continued to be so ineffective, they would surely lose everything. But as luck or fate or God would have it, they managed to find some footing and learned to hold their own (no doubt the tanks Murdoch had been working on, helped as well). And better than that, by October second, they succeeded in breaching the line! For the first time in a long time, he was optimistic that the war was almost at a close.

* * *

Though Olivia was still very much in love with James, she had learned to push those feelings down and except for the occasional minor slip up, she conducted herself admirably well around him. So it came as a rather large shock to her when James was the one who broached the tender subject!

It was after hours and they were in his office again. He seemed to be agitated about something and she just assumed it was engineering related. Boy was she wrong!

"Olivia," he said calmly enough, given his demeanour, "did you write this?"

He held up a small beige piece of paper and her heart nearly stopped. It was the letter she had composed to him nearly half a year ago when she had been trying to work up the courage to tell him her true feelings! She had been carrying it around with her ever since. Plunging her hand into her pants pocket, she was dismayed to find that there was a hole there.

_Well, if the cats out of the bag, there's no use in denying it any longer. _

"Yes, Mr. Pendrick."

He grimaced at that which sent a sensation like knives shooting through her entire body.

"How long ago did you write this?"

"I'm not sure." Why was she lying about that of all things? "Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't," he muttered. "Not really. I was just curious." Brief silence. "So what am I going to do with you now?"

Though he had said it more to himself, she answered him in a glum manner. "I understand if you feel it inappropriate for me to work here any longer. I'll resign right now if you'd like."

He was silent for a moment, staring at her in an intense way. "If you do that, you'd be throwing away a bright future in aeronautics." She gave him a confused look. "I doubt anyone else would hire you. And I refuse to be the reason you fail to achieve all that you're destined to. No, I'm afraid you're stuck here...at least for the foreseeable future."

"But everything is different now. How can we just pretend like it isn't?"

Another silence, more awkward than the last. James sighed and sat down beside her. He hesitated and then put his hand on her shoulder making her look at him curiously. "Olivia, I understand, believe me, I really do." He winced immediately afterwards, as if she had hit him in the face.

_What was he saying?_

"What do you mean?" He didn't respond. "Answer me James!" She put her hand to her mouth, wishing she could take it back. She had never called him by his Christian name before._  
_

Haltingly, slowly, "I can't deny that I've never entertained the...possibility. How could I not?...You're everything I could hope for in a...prospective partner." Her ears started to ring and his words seemed to echo across her mind. Was she dreaming? He touched her face gently bringing her back to reality. "But you're still so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. And mine, well, mine is nearing its end."

"Don't say that!" she exclaimed, months of pent up emotion bursting out all at once. James looked quite taken aback by the force of it. She jumped to her feet. "Don't you ever say that again!"

"Olivia..." he began and she started to shed bitter tears. He stood up and hugged her and she sobbed into his chest for quite some time.

"I don't care if you're old," she said shakily afterwards.

"Yes, I realized as much by your letter, but the problem is that I do. You deserve someone young and vital and full of promise. I'm afraid my best years are behind me."

"I don't care!" she wailed, stubbornly; holding on to him tighter.

"Olivia, please try to be reasonable."

His calm tone only served to infuriate her even more. She released her grip and looked up into his face. "Reason?! Love cannot be confined by such a thing! It knows no bounds! It consumes all it touches and wrecks havoc at its own selfish whim!" He was silent. "Well, don't you have anything to say? Or do you enjoy seeing me make a spectacle of myself?"

"Of course not, Olivia." Sighing, "What do you want me to say? What can I say that I already haven't?"

"Say that you love me! Say that you'll marry me!"

For the first time he looked away, "You know I can't do that. I've foolishly let things go too far as it is but I couldn't help myself. I should never have brought the subject up in the first place."

"Fine!" she shouted. "If that's how you feel, then I'm leaving!"

And without further ado she stormed out of there, vowing never to return or see him again.


	8. For Whom The Bell Tolls

"Dinner's ready, ma'am," said Jessica, their cook.

"All right, thank you, Jessica," replied Julia. She closed up the evening paper and then walked up the stairs to her daughter's room. Knocking, "Olivia, I want you to come out and eat something." No response. She sighed. "Dear, you can't go on like this forever. You have to eat something or you'll starve!"

"Then I'll starve!" came the muffled melodic voice.

Playing dirty she next said something that always got through to her.

"Olivia, you're acting _very_ childish."

There was no response. Julia was surprised and dismayed that her tactic hadn't worked. Since her daughter mostly liked to conduct herself in an adult manner, this phrase usually had the desired effect. But not this time.

She knew full well that the door was locked but tried it anyways.

_What do I do now?_

After a few moments, the doorbell rang and she called down, "I'll be right with you!"

The person at the door was either very impatient or hadn't heard her for they rang again. Julia was a bit peeved that she had sent her maid, Scarlet home early for the night.

"Oh all, right," she muttered, trouncing down the stairs again. She opened the door and gasped. The most beautiful sight (second only to when her son and his wife had shown up) was standing there smiling widely at her. And just like the last time, she was at a loss for words.

"Julia," he said voice full of emotion, eyes shining, "it's been awhile since I've been in civilized society but I do believe you're supposed to ask me inside."

Instead of that, she bowled him over right there on the porch! As if she were no better than a love-crazed teenager!

"Did I hurt you, William?" she asked anxiously, touching his face.

After he got over his shock he started laughing and she giggled along merrily with him. Then he pulled her close and they performed the well worn ritual with more vigour than they had in quite a long time.

They were interrupted by Jessica. "I thought I heard- begging your pardon Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch."

Letting go of one another, Julia got up first and then Murdoch since she had been on top of him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Jessica," said William, dusting off the dirt from his suit, Julia doing the same for her nice and expensive dress.

"It's quite all right, sir. Welcome back, sir!"

"Thank you, Jessica, I'm glad to be back."

Finally they went inside. After Jessica disappeared, they just stared at one another lovingly, holding hands. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you have returned home unharmed."

"Yes," he said smirking, "I gathered as much." A few seconds later. "Is Olivia home?" Julia got a look on her face. "What is it, dear?"

Her face went back to normal, "It's nothing, William. Olivia is in her room."

Without further ado he let go of her hand and jumped up the stairs, like a little kid. There was silence for a bit and then a loud scream, not of terror but of pure bliss. A little while later, Olivia and William came down the stairs together, wide-eyed and happy, as if her daughter hadn't been living through a personal hell for the past two weeks.

It wasn't as though James had completely abandoned her, he _had_ stopped by several times but Olivia had refused to see him and Julia couldn't really blame her. James should have known better than to trifle with the affections of a teenage girl. Had he become so lonely in recent years that he lost all sense of reason? Or was this simply a case of him having horrible taste in women? First his conniving ex-wife and now almost twenty years later, her daughter of all people! Or was he really and truly in love with Olivia? It was hard to believe this to be the case but it certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility. But how did she feel about this if this were the case?

Sure age was just a number and she herself had been courted by a man much older than herself but now that it was her own daughter, she wasn't so sure she could be quite so impartial. Besides, Jeremy had only been twenty years older, James was more than double that! He was even older than herself! Medically speaking, he was probably in decent enough condition, but even so, what kind of life would that be for Olivia? How would she cope being a premature widow? Granted, as she was well aware, unexpected fatal things happened every day to a myriad of people and James _could_ still live for another couple of decades but in that case, Olivia would eventually become caretaker rather than wife. Did she realize this? Did she know how much she would be giving up by committing to someone so old?

At the moment, Julia wasn't particularly concerned about any of this. The two reasons being that her daughter wasn't even talking to James right now and her husband was so close that she could reach out and touch him. So that's exactly what she did. He smiled at her and then continued talking about his journey back. Soon after, Julia called Ben to tell him the good news and he rushed over with his wife. And for the first time in a very long time, they had a complete family dinner.

But the night was far from over and the festivities were just beginning. Julia called the Brackenreids and Crabtrees over. Luckily they were all available, all save for Robert and his family. They were out of town at the moment, visiting relatives. Even though the Crabtree's were just down the street, the Brackenreid's arrived first. This probably had something to do with getting eight girls (including her sister) organized and ready. They were almost never on time for _anything_, even with several servants helping out.

In one hand, John held his mother's arm for guidance and in the other hand, he clasped his trusty trumpet case. He had picked up the skill while in the army and even with his unfortunate disability could still play remarkably well. John held onto his mother's arm up until they crossed the threshold. Then almost immediately, Ben appeared and took her place. John's eyes had healed a little so that he could see some things but not enough to actually walk around on his own. By now he had mostly come to terms with his disability, no doubt Ben's constant attention helped in this matter.

It was then that Julia felt bad about her previous ruminations. Here was a young man, struck down in the prime of his life, who might never marry, and if he did, wouldn't his wife have just as much (if not more) work cut out for her as Olivia would? And not years from now but right from the get go? Was the age difference really that big a deal in the end? Wasn't her daughter's happiness all that truly mattered?

"Margaret," she said giving her a hug, "so nice of you to make it."

"Wouldn't have missed this for the world, Julia."

William was beside her, shaking hands with his oldest friend. "Glad to see you among the living, me old mucker." This was followed by a wink and click.

"I haven't seen that in a long while," laughed William. "I hadn't realized how much I missed that until just this moment."

"Well, then," replied Brackenreid, smirking, "I'll just have to keep at it."

He winked and clicked and William laughed again. The two women shared a bemused look, wondering at their husbands' behaviour.

Around half an hour later, her sister finally showed up.

"Forgive us, Jules," she said embracing her as all the girls with George as shepherd filed in past them. "But you know how they can be."

_Yes, I'm sure it was all your children's fault. You seem to have gotten extremely dressed up even though I said not to bother._

"It's quite all right, Ruby. I'm just happy you could be here to celebrate William's return."

"Speaking of, where is the handsome detective?"

Julia turned in his direction to see George giving him a big bear hug. For once William wasn't disapproving and if anything, seemed to be crushing him even tighter. It amused Julia to no end watching these three grown men laugh and act like children. It amused her but also delighted her. She couldn't remember the last time she had beheld such a sight or felt so completely happy.

And then because when it rains it pours, there was a surprise announcement as signalled by John on the trumpet. With everyone's attention, Ben told them that Valerie was pregnant! Everything seemed to be happening at once, and Julia could barely contain herself.

The celebration and John's musical stylings continued until quite late. But as with all good things, they always end and the signal for this was the usual one at such gatherings. Little Rebecca had fallen asleep in her mother's lap and as such, they needed to go put her to bed. The Crabtree's said their goodbyes and were on their way. And Olivia went with them. She had asked to stay over there and Julia had said yes because she thought it would be good for her. Hopefully it would keep her from relapsing.

An hour later the Brackenreid's left, the two men struggling down the porch steps. Julia and William didn't offer Brackenreid a hand, they knew how stubborn he was about these sorts of things. Luckily John hadn't been like his father, or it would have been impossible for him to go anywhere or do anything, except for the most basic of things, like getting dressed.

And so it was off to bed, the Murdoch juniors taking over Ben's old room for the night. The Murdoch seniors collapsed into bed, thoroughly exhausted from hosting for the past many hours. Even so, they took one look at each other and began tearing each others clothes off.

* * *

Murdoch woke up bright and early that November twentieth, feeling more refreshed than he had in over a year. He watched Julia sleeping soundly for a few minutes and then kissed her bare shoulder. She stirred briefly but ultimately went back to sleep. Throwing on nothing but a white robe, he headed downstairs to get some coffee and read the morning paper (drinking coffee was such a habit now that he drank it regardless if he felt tired or not). He shivered slightly as the cold air hit his shins and quickly picked the paper up, stowing it under his armpit as he headed back in. Making his way to the kitchen, he was pleased to find coffee was already brewing and a small display of fresh fruit present. It had been awhile since he had had grapes, so he greedily snapped off a large branch of it and dangled a few in his mouth, chomping down and savouring the juices. Then he poured himself some coffee and sat down, laying the paper flat on the table. He read the headline and almost choked on his food: _Famed Inventor Dies Tragically at 61_

Even though Pendrick's picture was right there, Murdoch read the title several times to make sure he hadn't been seeing things. When he was certain he hadn't, he experienced an acute tightness in his chest, similar to the time when he found out his mentor Father O'Connell had passed. Murdoch was sorry he hadn't gotten to say goodbye in both cases, though this one had come as a complete surprise. With a heavy heart he proceeded to read the rest of the article to find out what happened.

According to the reporter, Pendrick had died in a plane crash around eleven o'clock last night. Some locals had seen the plane nose dive and the resulting explosion and rushed over to help but there was nothing they could do. The detective called on to the scene, Hawkins, had as of yet been unable to determine the cause of Pendrick's loss of control. Then it went on to describe his various accomplishments and contributions to science and engineering over the years and ended with words of solace to those who had personally known him.

Murdoch just sat there quietly afterwards, staring blankly at the wall until Julia entered his line of sight.

She must have seen his expression for she said concernedly, "William, what's wrong?" He glanced down at the paper and Julia gasped. "Oh my God! This is terrible!"

Without a word, Murdoch went back upstairs, got dressed, grabbed his hat and hopped in the car. He drove to station house one where the investigation was underway. By now he was so well known and celebrated himself that even though he had been gone for over a year, no one had to ask who he was or why he was accessing the case report. There wasn't enough information in it to be of help so he asked detective Hawkins to show him the wreckage. Hawkins told him it was still out in the field and so once he knew the location, Murdoch headed out there alone. Sorting through the charred and broken materials, he tried to put them back together like a jigsaw puzzle. Eventually he succeeded in this task but was none the wiser. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with the parts. That is until he examined the ejection mechanism. It was scrunched together with such force that he couldn't make it budge an inch. Whether this was caused by the crash or not, he couldn't tell, maybe he'd never know.

Deciding there was nothing else of value here, he headed to Pendrick's place of business. He scoured for something, anything that could enlighten him and then he came across a blueprint for a handsome, sleek looking plane. As far as he could tell, it was the same one that had crashed. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary here until he read a little blurb on the back side. It said, "If all goes well, I will be the first man to traverse an altitude of 35000 feet!"

Now Murdoch understood what had happened. Pendrick had pushed the limits of conventional aeronautics and as such found himself in the stratosphere! There the supercooling of the plane would have caused extreme ice crystal formation. Pendrick of course would have known this but must have thought his counter measures would be enough to offset this phenomenon. Apparently he had been wrong. Once the engine frosted over, he would have lost all control of the aircraft and within seconds started plummeting to the earth. By that point the spinning and centrifugal force must have overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn't eject from his seat (assuming it had even been working). And the rest was history.

Knowing what he did, didn't help Murdoch feel any better, not that he had expected it to. He looked around Pendrick's office one last time and noticed a small metal box on top of the bookcase. Bringing a chair over, he retrieved it and placed it on the desk. It was locked so he jimmied it open, thankful Pendrick hadn't created some elaborate design like the last time he had wanted to keep something safe. This was somewhat surprising to him, considering what he found inside. It was Pendrick's Will, which apparently had been revised about seven months previously. He hadn't meant to read any of it then but something caught his eye and he stood there stupefied. For you see, Pendrick had left all his considerable wealth, including his entire company, to none other than Olivia!


End file.
